


Harry Potter and the Four Founders

by Darth_Marrs



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 07:14:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 124,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4597659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darth_Marrs/pseuds/Darth_Marrs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning after the ministry fiasco, something amazing happens to Harry Potter. He discovers not just the truth behind his heritage, but also the unique and pressing obligations that come with it. Powerful Harry, multi-ship, no slash. Inspired by Gryffindor's Heir of Magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which Hogwarts Does Harry

**Author's Note:**

> This is the unedited version of Harry Potter and the Four Founders currently found on another major fansite. I've chosen to post the unedited version here due to AO3's more reasonable rating requirements. This is a reposting and was not beta read either originally or now, so please take that into account when reading.
> 
> All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Harry Potter and the Four Founders**

A Fanfiction Story by Darth Marrs

**Author’s Note:**

The basic premise of this story was inspired by Gryffindor’s Harry Potter, The Heir of Magic, which was put up for adoption by the author.

This is completely AU immediately following the events of the OOTP. Just as Gryffindor did, the first portion of the first chapter is taken nearly word for word from the ending of the OOTP. From there I diverge from Gryffindor’s original.

For the Ginny haters out there, please don’t bother reading.  This is a harem story and Ginny will be a part of it.

**Harry Potter and the Four Founders**

“ _You will also find that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.”_

\--Albus Dumbledore,

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

**Chapter One: In Which Hogwarts Does Harry**

“You do care. You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it.”

Harry stood trembling in the Headmaster’s office. Around them lay the remains of Dumbledore’s many instruments, shattered by Harry’s rage. Their argument continued; Dumbledore calm and sad, Harry yelling at the top of his lungs in a storm of anger more powerful than anything he had ever felt before.

“It is my fault that Sirius died,” Dumbledore finally said. And he explained. He explained how it was his fault for not being open with Harry. He explained just how thoroughly the trap had been sprung on Harry, and how thoroughly he fell into it with all his friends.

He explained how he knew exactly what he was doing when he gave Harry to the Dursleys. How he was knowingly condemning Harry to ten long, dark and difficult years. He explained how he had formulated a brilliant plan, only to see it fall apart because of his supposed care for Harry.

And then he spoke of the prophecy.

_The one with the power to vanquish the- Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies … and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not … and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives … the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies._

The slowly revolving Professor Trelawney sank back into the silver mist of the pensieve. The silence within the office was absolute. Dumbledore stood as still as any statue, while Harry stared down into the pensieve.

“Professor Dumbledore?” Harry spoke at last. He did not look up from the cauldron that showed the memory. “It... did that mean … what did that mean?”

“It meant,” said Dumbledore, “that the person who has the only chance of conquering Lord Voldemort for good was born at the end of July, nearly sixteen years ago. This boy would be born to parents who had already defied Voldemort three times.”

Harry felt as though something was closing in on him. His breath caught in his throat and it took willpower to force it through his lungs. “It means - me?”

Dumbledore merely stared at him, providing his answer to deafening silence. “The odd thing Harry,” he said at last, “is that it may not have meant you at all. Sibyll's Prophecy could have applied to two wizard boys, both born at the end of July that year, both of whom had parents in the Order of the Phoenix, both sets of parents having narrowly escaped Voldemort three times. One, of course, was you. The other was Neville Longbottom.”

“But then … but then, why was it my name on the prophecy and not Neville's?”

“The official record was re-labeled after Voldemort's attack on you as a child,” said Dumbledore. “It seemed plain to the keeper of the Hall of Prophecy that Voldemort could only have tried to kill you because he knew you to be the one to whom Sybill was referring.”

“Then it might not be me?” said Harry

“I am afraid,” said Dumbledore slowly, looking as though every word cost him a great effort, “that there is no doubt that it is you.”

“But you said - Neville was born at the end of July, too - and his mum and dad...”

“You are forgetting the next part of the prophecy, the final identifying feature of the boy who could vanquish Voldemort … Voldemort himself would mark him as his equal. And so he did, Harry He chose you, not Neville. He gave you the scar that has proved both blessing and curse.”

“But he might have chosen wrong!” said Harry. “He might have marked the wrong person!”

“He chose the boy he thought most likely to be a danger to him,” said Dumbledore. “And notice this, Harry: he chose, not the pureblood (which, according to his creed, is the only kind of wizard worth being or knowing) but the half-blood, like himself. He saw himself in you before he had ever seen you, and in marking you with that scar, he did not kill you, as he intended, but gave you powers, and a future, which have fitted you to escape him not once, but four times so far - something that neither your parents, nor Neville's parents, ever achieved.”

“Why did he do it, then?” said Harry, who felt numb and cold. “Why did he try and kill me as a baby? He should have waited to see whether Neville or I looked more dangerous when we were older and tried to kill whoever it was then”

‘That might, indeed, have been the more practical course,” said Dumbledore, “except that Voldemort's information about the prophecy was incomplete. The Hog's Head inn, which Sybill chose for its cheapness, has long attracted, shall we say, a more interesting clientele than the Three Broomsticks. As you and your friends found out to your cost, and I to mine that night, it is a place where it is never safe to assure you are not being overheard. Of course, I had not dreamed, when I set out to meet Sybill Trelawney, that I would hear anything worth overhearing. My - our - one stroke of good fortune was that the eavesdropper was detected only a short way into the prophecy and thrown from the building.”

“This eavesdropper only heard part of it?”

“He heard only the beginning, the part foretelling the birth of a boy in July to parents who had thrice defied Voldemort. Consequently, he could not warn his master that to attack you would be to risk transferring power to you, and marking you as his equal. So Voldemort never knew that there might be danger in attacking you; that it might be wise to wait, to learn more. He did not know that you would have power the Dark Lord knows not”

“But I don't!” said Harry, in a strangled voice. “I haven't any powers he hasn't got, I couldn't fight the way he did tonight, I can't possess people or - or kill them –“

“There is a room in the Department of Mysteries,” interrupted Dumbledore, “that is kept locked at all times. It contains a force that is at once more wonderful and more terrible than death, than human intelligence, than the forces of nature. It is also, perhaps, the most mysterious of the many subjects for study that reside there. It is the power held within that room that you possess in such quantities and which Voldemort has not at all. That power took you to save Sirius tonight. That power also saved you from possession by Voldemort, because he could not bear to reside in a body so full of the force he detests. In the end, it mattered not that you could not close your mind. It was your heart that saved you.”

Harry closed his eyes. If he had not gone to save Sirius, Sirius would not have died… More to stave off the moment when he would have to think of Sirius again, Harry asked, without caring much about the answer, “The end of the prophecy… it was something about… neither can live…”

“… while the other survives,” finished Dumbledore.

“So,” said Harry, dredging up the words from what felt like a deep well of despair inside him,

“So does that mean that… that one of us has got to kill the other one… in the end?”

“Yes,” said Dumbledore.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. Somewhere far beyond the office walls, Harry could hear the sound of voices, students heading down to the Great Hall for an early breakfast, perhaps. It seemed impossible that there could be people in the world who still desired food, who laughed, who neither knew nor cared that Sirius Black was gone for ever. Sirius seemed a million miles away already; even now a part of Harry still believed that if he had only pulled back that veil, he would have found Sirius looking back at him, greeting him, perhaps, with his laugh like a bark…

“I feel I owe you another explanation, Harry,” said Dumbledore hesitantly. “You may, perhaps, have wondered why I never chose you as a prefect? I must confess… that I rather thought…you had enough responsibility to be going on with.”

Harry looked up at him and saw a tear trickling down Dumbledore's face into his long silver beard.

Harry stumbled out of the office without any idea of a destination. Without any idea of a reason. His legs moved because otherwise he would have fallen forward. His eyes looked everywhere but he saw nothing.

Finally, his legs did stop moving. His body continued forward, and Harry fell to the stone floor with a sob. “I can’t do this,” he whispered as tears pooled on the inside of his glasses and made the stones glisten. “I can’t. I’m so tired. I need help. I can’t do this alone.”

He felt sudden warmth and weight across his back. A comforting arm. “Her…” he started, looking up. The tears ran down the interior of his glasses onto his cheeks, leaving streaks of distortion in his vision that faded quickly under the water-repelling charms on his lenses. Even so, there was no mistaking the features looking down at him now.

“Mo…mum?”

“Come with me, my son,” Lily Potter said. Her voice sounded at once distant and immediate; warm and yet cold. It seemed to echo through the halls even as it whispered directly into his mind. “Come with me.”

He rose to his feet. At some instinctive level he knew this had to be another trick. Voldemort was trying to rape his mind again. He was being led to his death. Yet, he was so very tired. It felt as if watching Sirius fall through the veil had stolen from him his will to do fight. To live.

If the Mirror of Erised were there, he would have gladly lost himself to it. Just so, he gave himself up now to this beautiful vision of his mother. He rose to his feet, conscious of her arm across his back guiding him to the third floor.

It was the Room of Requirement. The door was already open, waiting for him. She guided him inside and the door sealed behind him. He did not look over his shoulder. He saw nothing but a bed laying in the center of the chamber, surrounded by a circle of light that made the rest of the room fall into darkness.

They paused before the bed, and comforting hands began pulling Harry’s shirt from his shoulders. He simply stared at the bed, so mentally and physically exhausted that he could not really focus on what was happening.

That changed when the hands started working on his belt. “Mum?” he said, confused.

It was not his mother. He looked around, and she was gone. Before him stood another figure, familiar and loved. “You were injured,” he whispered as he stared into her warm brown eyes. “You’re in the hospital wing.”

“Hush now, Harry,” Hermione whispered as she undid the latch of his belt.

His hands came up to stop her. She looked up and smiled at him. He found himself staring back in confusion. It was a look of love and adoration, but there was something ancient in her eyes. This wasn’t the expression of a teenager in love. Hers was the expression of a woman staring at a lover. Yet, it was still Hermione’s face. Still Hermione’s hands that placed one finger against his lips, while with the other hand she finished unbuckling his belt.

Only then did he realize what she was wearing. Or wasn’t. It was a white gauze gown that flowed down around her. He could see her body clearly through the flimsy material, most noticeably the pair of breasts pointing directly at his bare chest and the auburn triangle of hair that covered her sex.

“I don’t understand,” he said, choking.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” she said to him. He knew he should be backing away from her. He loved Hermione so much, but seeing her like this was wrong.

Yet, he could feel his body responding to the sight of her. “Hermione, please don’t…”

She unzipped his pants and pulled them down around his ankles. He gasped and tried to step away, only to trip on those same pants and fall backward onto the bed.  He looked up, mortified, but Hermione was gone.

Luna Lovegood now stood before him, clad in the same shimmering gown. “I’ve been waiting for you for so long, my love,” she said. With two shrugs of her shoulders, the gown fell away. Hers was not the body of a teenager. Hers was the body of a woman full grown, like right out of the magazines his cousin Dudley hid under his mattress. Two voluptuous breasts hung in perfect symmetry, while her waist curved in until flaring out in a pair of shapely hips.  Her pubic hair was so white as to be almost invisible and shaven into the shape of a diamond.

“I don’t understand,” Harry said, almost begging. Luna leaned over him. Her breath smelled of apricots. He struggled and fought to keep his eyes on her face. “Luna, what is happening?”

She smiled at him and leaned down until her lips brushed against his chest and the small down of hair that had begun just in the past year or so to grow there. He shivered under the electric contact even as his body responded with near painful force. She looked up at him, and he choked.

The blonde hair was gone, shifted to a rich, raven black. Silver-gray eyes turned cobalt blue, and somehow he found himself staring into the face of Daphne Greengrass. “I have waited to love you,” she said as she pulled his boxers down.  Her lips brushed against the head of his penis as she followed the boxers down.  He felt his little wizard stiffen immediately.

He was so confused and excited that he could no longer frame any type of protest. He felt cool, slender fingers trace their way down his chest, down further and further until they wrapped themselves around the base of his manhood.  “I don’t understand,” he said again. “What’s happening? Who are you?”

Those gentle fingers continued to hold him as legs swung over his own hips, until he saw the head of his penis nesting against the lips of her sex.  Gentle fingers guided him into a stunning, blessed warmth. His breath caught and he stared in surprise, pleasure and shock at the beautiful woman straddling him. Only, the black hair was gone, replaced by honey blonde locks framing an oval face. Large creamy-white breasts bounced playfully as she first sank down onto him, then began to rock on him.

“Susan?” he gasped. _Is this it? Is this what making love is really like_? He asked himself.

She reached down and grabbed his hands, and pulled them to her chest. Her breasts felt soft and warm, except for the rock-hard nipples pressed against his palms.  As he ripped his eyes up, it was once again Hermione Granger making love to him with gentle, rocking motions. “I have waited a thousand years to love you,” she said to him. Once more, her voice sounded as if it were both whispering in his ear and pounding into his head from the very walls. “A thousand years have my halls waited for the Chosen one. A thousand years have I longed for the seed to make us whole. I have waited long enough. I will love you, Harry Potter. You are the Chosen One. You are the Heir. I am for you.”

She moved faster.  Her breasts began to bounce in earnest as her weight slapped down against his body with a slapping sound.   Harry’s breath rasped now as raw sensation burned through his body. All thoughts of guilt, of pain and of memory bled away under the blissful feeling of her pubic hair rubbing against his. Once again it was Luna, then Daphne, then Susan. Their faces blurred before his eyes even as the body remained the same, until they settled into the features of a new face. A face at once beautiful, young, vibrant, and undeniably ancient. Still her rocking and bouncing grew frenzied as Harry’s body took over where his stunned and confused mind left off.

He thrust into her, arching his back and his hips. His hands drifted down to her hips and gripped hard to provide leverage as he pushed as hard into her as he could. She arched her back and pushed her breasts out.  They were like magnets that pulled him into a sitting position enough to place his mouth on her nipples.  They tasted salty and sweet at the same time, and the feel of them slapping against his cheeks with the same rhythm as her hips slapping against his was beyond mere bliss—the combination of sensations caused a sudden tension deep within him. The mounting tension grew in heat and intensity. He a felt sudden, undeniable pressure as he released inside her.

He moaned in terrible pleasure. The woman atop him leaned back further as he exploded within her. “It is done!” she cried triumphantly. She collapsed forward on top of Harry’s still writhing body. Her hands and nipples felt like fire against his chest as she leaned forward and locked her lips with his.

The kiss was as intense as the lovemaking. It felt as if she were stealing his breath, but he gave it wholly, so consumed by these new sensations he did not even need to breathe any more. At last their lips parted and he found himself staring into eyes that shifted colors from brown to blue to green.

“You belong to me now,” she whispered. “The heir has returned. The lines will be restored. The prophecy will be fulfilled. Take this, my love.”

He found something in his hand. It was an amulet, a circle of gold with a large amethyst in the center. The stone appeared quartered, and one of the four house banners was engraved into the stone at each of the corners. As he stared, the amethyst grew suddenly hot to the touch. He cried out in pain as it burned into his palm, then through his palm. He watched in horror as it literally burned down through the skin.

Yet, a moment later he stared at his unblemished palm. He stared back up at the woman. “What is happening? Why are you doing this to me? Who are you?”

She smiled down at him, beautiful and mysterious. “I am Hogwarts,” she said. Her voice reverberated from the walls itself. “This room is my heart. And with your sacrament of life and love, I have bonded with you.”

“Buy why?”

“Because you are the heir. You are the final hope. The last of the bloodlines. In you flows the magic and blood of Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Salazar Slytherin and Helga Hufflepuff.”

Harry shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense. I’m just Harry Potter. And what about Slytherin! I can’t be related to him.”

She leaned forward, and once again he felt fire as a pair of perfect breasts brushed against his chest. She continued leaning forward until her lips brushed against his scar. This time, the fire felt real and burned as badly as when Voldemort attacked him.

“You are the heir of Slytherin’s magic by that mark,” she whispered into his ear. “The old Heir of Slytherin marked you as his equal, and with the destruction of his body, transferred the magic of Slytherin into you. Thus you became the child of the prophecy. And thus you became the heir of the Four Founders. It is through you, Harry Potter, that the Four Lines will continue. And it is through you that light will be restored. You are the heir of the founders. You are the heir of magic. Know that I shall always love you, and you shall always be welcome within me.”

He felt himself stiffen, and realized that he was within her at that very moment. She smiled and then laughed as she once again straightened on top of him. Her glorious body moved in a thousand fascinating ways. “All will become clear in time, beloved,” she promised. “All will be made clear.”

In explicably, the pressure within him welled up again. Sensing his need and the promise of him, she began moving again. He looked down and could see the shaft of his best buried in her sacred sex.  Her hands travelled over his body, hot and delicious, and sooner this time he finished with a groan.

Then it all ended, abruptly.

He found himself laying naked on the cold flagstones of the Room of Requirement. There was no woman; there was no bed. Just a naked Harry and a pile of clothes nearby.

He stood, confused and even a little hurt. “Hello?” he asked.

The room did not answer. He stood and without any alternative, began pulling his clothes on. “It must have been a dream,” he said to himself. Then he shook his head with a wry grin. “Some dream.”

If he had been older, or more experienced, he would have questioned why there was no mess on his body, no evidence of his orgasms. But he was only fifteen, and never thought to wonder why the only evidence of his dream was the distinct smell of a woman’s sex.

He left the room, and as the door closed, the room behind him suddenly flashed with pink light and the tinkle of a woman’s warm laugh in the distance.

Hogwarts was happy.

 


	2. In Which Harry Gets All Verklempt, and Urges His Friends to Talk Amongst Themselves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Harry Gets All Verklempt, and Urges His Friends to Talk Amongst Themselves

It did not matter that it was still morning when Harry stumbled drunkenly from the Room of Requirement. He was not hungry. He was exhausted.

He ignored the questioning looks from the other students. Classes were over, the OWLS and NEWTS were done. It was next to the last day of term, and in two days the train would take them home.

Harry moved like a zombie, his eyes bleary and his mind numb, until he reached his rooms. As he pulled off his clothes, he became aware of the acrid taint of old sweat. There was a new smell as well, but his mind was unable to decipher what it was. He stripped and stepped into the common shower long enough to clean himself. Once that was accomplished, he paused long enough to throw on a pair of clean boxers and collapsed into bed.

He had no idea how long he slept before he felt a hand shake his shoulder.

“Ger’off,” he muttered.

“Harry.” It was Ron.

Harry rolled onto his back and stared up at the top of his bed’s canopy. He saw from the side Ron sitting on the bed next to him. “You okay?” he finally asked.

Ron nodded. “You? Looked pretty scary there for a bit.”

Harry became aware of another presence, and saw Neville standing nearby. He sat up and looked out the window. From the light it looked to be early morning. Did he sleep all day? “Hey, Nev. How ‘bout you?”

“I’m alright,” the other boy said with a slightly oafish grin. “We were worried about you, Harry. You slept a long time.”

Harry nodded. He should have felt deadening pain, but for some reason the dark emotions just wouldn’t come. It wasn’t that they weren’t there. Thinking about Sirius gave him a profound sense of sadness. But it felt, somehow, as if he’d already grieved for his godfather.

Harry felt better than he should have, he just couldn’t say why. “Any injuries?” he asked.

Ron looked down at the scars on his arm. “I just got out. Bloody brains. Hermione’s still in the hospital wing. She’s doing better, but said she’d have to take ten different potions every day for a month.”

“How ‘bout Ginny and Luna?”

“They were brilliant,” Ron said proudly of his sister. “Ginny’s ankle’s all fixed up.”

“You were all brilliant,” Harry said. He noticed Nev blush. “You were,” he said again. “I led us into a stupid, obvious trap. I could have gotten us all killed, but you fought back against inner circle Death Eaters long enough for help to arrive. I can’t even begin to say how…” And he couldn’t.

But the other boys understood. So, Ron hit his shoulder. “Yeah,” he said. “Well, you slept all day yesterday and last night. You’ve got to be hungry.”

Harry’s stomach growled loudly, but he shook his head. “You guys go. I need to see Hermione.”

Ron nodded. “Okay, mate. We’ll save some food for you.”

“Really?” Harry said archly. “Will you really save food for me, Ron?”

“Maybe?” Ron said.

“Hey, Harry, when did you get those tattoos?” Neville suddenly asked. “Did Umbridge give you those?”

“What?” Harry looked at his hands, and saw the crest of Ravenclaw house on the back of his left hand. He turned and saw the Gryffindor crest on the back of his right hand. “What the hell?” He pulled the sheets back and stared at his feet. Slytherin on the left, Hufflepuff on the right.

“You didn’t have those last time I saw you,” Ron said. “Blimey, ‘Arry, what have you been doing?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said. He remembered his dream from that morning. “Doesn’t matter,” he said quickly as his body also remembered the dream from that morning. “I’ll see you guys in the great hall, okay?”

He threw his clothes on quickly and left the deserted common room. Everyone was at dinner. By the time he arrived at the Hospital Wing, he could see it held only one occupant.

Hermione Granger was sitting up in her bed clad in a pair of comfortable looking pajamas with a large book on her lap. She looked very pale, and very small. Fragile. He stifled an urge to go and stand guard over her. She stayed unnaturally still.

He walked through the hall until she noticed him. Her face lit up with a brilliant smile, and he paused a moment, caught in the memory of yesterday morning’s dream. Only, he knew this Hermione was not the same woman from his dream. This Hermione was a sixteen year old girl with a teenager’s body. His Hermione. But for the first time since that one moment at the Yule Ball last year, Harry realized that his friend was a very beautiful young woman. “Hi,” he said simply. He pulled a chair out from the wall and sat down beside her. “How are you?”

“I’ve certainly been better,” she admitted. Her smile lessoned and he could see that she was in pain. “I’m so sorry for Sirius, Harry.”

“Thank you.” He visited his thoughts of his grandfather again, and smiled sadly. “It’s so strange,” he said. “At first I was so mad, ‘Mione. I thought I was going to just explode. Mad and sad and all these other emotions. And I couldn’t hold them all in. Then I had the strangest dream, and now…”

“Now?” she prompted.

“I still miss him,” Harry said. “It still makes me angry that he’s gone. He was the only thing close to family I had. But it just doesn’t hurt like it did last night. It’s like I know he died doing what he believed in. I just…it’s hard to explain.”

“Must have been some dream.”

His eyes slipped down from her face for a split second. “You have no idea,” he muttered. He realized that his cheeks were hot.

“Harry?”

He looked back up at her. She was looking at him, really looking. He could see her eyes focused solely on his face, as if nothing else mattered. Of everyone he had ever met only she would do that. “Hermione, I…” He couldn’t say it. The words just didn’t come. He reached down and took her hand in his. “What you did for me…”

“It’s what I told you before, Harry,” she said. “I’m on your side. I always have been.”

“That’s just it,” Harry said. “You always have been, even when I didn’t deserve you. You were always there for me, for all of us. Somehow I get the credit, but it’s always because I was listening to you. Ron may be my best mate, but you’re…you’re my best friend, Hermione. More than that. I just don’t know how to…”

He paused, flustered. Her own cheeks were flushed, and looked even more so against her otherwise pale and weakened complexion. He took a deep breath. “I love you,” he finally said. He did not blurt it out or rush it. He said the words slowly and deliberately. “You, and Ron, are the most important people in my life. And I love you.”

He then did something he had never done before. He leaned forward and very carefully wrapped her in a hug. “Be well, Hermione,” he whispered into her ear. “Be well, because I don’t know how I could ever go on without you.”

He felt a pressure in his head, and once again remembered that incredible dream. Then the feeling seemed to flow out of him. He leaned back and saw her staring at him, mouth agape and cheeks flaring brightly. “Harry….”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I understand. I know about Ron. It’s just…whatever else happens, I wanted you to know that. I…gotta go now!”

He stood and walked quickly away from her, pausing only a moment to wipe his eyes on the back of his sleeve before he left the wing entirely.

\--

\--

Hermione stared at Harry’s back as he walked away. She saw how he paused long enough to wipe away tears. His eyes were tearing up as he hugged her!

It must have been the battle at the Department of Mysteries, she reasoned. He was distraught over Sirius’s death and so just didn’t know what to do with his guilt and anguish. And yet she had to admit to a little seed of warmth in her stomach at his words. Other than her parents, no one had ever used the “L” word with her.

It must have been because of the battle. That was why he told her that he loved her. Why he said she was more than just his best friend. Why he, for the first time since she had known him, leaned across and hugged her. Why that hug felt better than anything she’d felt in a long time. Why it felt so safe and so right. It had to be from the battle. Because, why, otherwise it would mean something. Yes, that had to be. Because of the battle.

She sat up and put her book down, then swung her legs over the bed to use the loo. Her mind was so busy obsessing about the conversation she just had that it took a long moment for her to realize one very important fact.

The pain was gone.

She froze. The pain was completely gone. She lifted her shirt and stared down at what should have been a huge blackened bruise on her ribs from Dolohov’s dark curse. The bruise was completely gone. “Madam Pomphrey!” she cried.

The mediwitch came running promptly, as she did everything. “What is it, child?” she asked as she came running.

Pomphrey’s steps slowed as she saw Hermione holding up the side of her pajamas. The pause lasted only a heartbeat before she pulled her wand and stepped quickly to her patient’s side. She quickly began performing diagnostic charms. “How does it feel?” she asked.

“The pain is completely gone,” Hermione said. Suddenly she laughed. “In fact, I feel really good.”

“That’s impossible,” Pomphrey said. “There’s nothing I could think of that would heal that wound so quickly.”

However, there was nothing else to say. Somehow, Hermione was healed. Harry had hugged her, she’d felt a strange warmth that she attributed to him whispering into her ear, and then she was completely healed.

“My God,” she mused aloud, “Harry healed me.”

\--

\--

The great hall seethed with whispers. The rumors had already spread like fire through the student population. Everyone knew that Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Luna had gone to the Ministry of Magic and fought Death Eaters. Everyone knew that Ron, Ginny and Neville were all injured. Everyone knew that Voldemort had been seen, not just by those who fought him, but by Minister Fudge himself and several aurors.

Everyone knew this.

When Harry stepped through the doors to eat, he realized very quickly that they knew this. At the head table, the staff sat in silence, watching him. Professor McGonagall still looked pale from the stunners she took trying to defend Hagrid from Madam Umbridge. Hagrid himself looked flushed and tired.

Dumbledore’s features were carefully schooled to give nothing away, while Snape looked…like Snape, Harry admitted.

He ignored the looks and the silence and sat beside Ron. He was not surprised to find Ginny, Neville and even Luna all at the table. The lone Ravenclaw sat sandwiched between Neville and Ginny, but was watching Harry very carefully as he approached.

Once again, that damnable dream flashed in his mind—this time of Luna Lovegood shrugging off a sheer gown. He shook it off and sat down. “Hi,” he said to the girls. “You okay?”

“We were going to ask you that,” Ginny said.

“She was,” Luna said. She linked owlishly at him. “I was going to ask what happened to you yesterday morning. You’re different. Did you get a married?”

Ginny snorted pumpkin juice out of her nose. Having done that before, Harry sympathized with her. “What?” the red-head asked.

“I don’t think so,” Harry said. “Why?”

“You have flubberglubs all around you,” she said, as if that explained everything.

Not quite knowing how to respond to that, Ron took the safe approach. “Here, Harry, have some bacon!”

Just then Hermione came rushing through the doors. “Blimey!” Ron said. “You aren’t supposed to be up yet!”

She grinned and gave him a hug. “I’m feeling much better now,” she assured him. “Now scoot over.”

He scooted, and she settled between him and Harry. Once settled, she leaned over to Harry and whispered, “I don’t know what you did or how, but thank you.”

Harry blinked, as mystified as she was. He was mid-way through a very large breakfast when he felt a twinge in his scar. It was still sore from the fiasco two nights ago adventures, but the twinge was nothing but that.

Still, he felt something coming through it. A face—aristocratic and arrogant, with long white-blond hair. A feeling—utter rage and a threat of violence.

“Harry?” Hermione asked.

“It’s nothing,” he assured her. Compared to the attack in the ministry, it was nothing. Just a ghost of a feeling. He knew what it meant, though. He looked over his shoulder at the Slytherin table. Immediately he locked eyes with Draco, who sat before an untouched plate of food glaring death at him.

The Headmaster eventually stood and uttered a few meaningless words about unity and safety, but Harry didn’t listen. He felt something inside that he was having a hard time coming to grips with. Every time he looked at his friend’s faces, he just wanted to cry. Not in sadness, but in joy. He felt so…emotional. He didn’t understand why he just couldn’t get a grip.

“I’ll catch you later,” Harry said when he was finally finished.

“Are you going to be okay?” Hermione asked.

All of them were looking at him—all five of the best friends he had ever known. He knew his answering smile must have been silly and childish. He knew his eyes were growing a little moist and he wanted to be embarrassed, but he just couldn’t. “I have you,” he said to all of them. “I’ll be okay, as long as I have you.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Listen to me, a sound like a little girl.”

“You say that as if it is a bad thing,” said Luna, who by stature if not by age was a little girl.

Harry laughed. “It’s bloody embarrassing, though.”

“It’s okay though,” Hermione assured him.

“It really is,” Neville said.

“We do understand,” Ginny added.

Luna simply stared at him.

“Thank you,” he said. “For everything.” Afraid he was going to start crying, Harry turned and left the great hall. He was planning on going to the owlery just for some quiet when he heard the step of hard-soled shoes behind him.

“You’re dead, Potter!”

He turned and saw Draco Malfoy glaring at him with a wand pointed at his chest.

Harry should have felt fear and rage. He knew very well that Malfoy would hex him, and it wouldn’t be a nice hex either. Instead, he thought of the images he received through the scar at lunch.

“Your father’s in trouble,” he said.

“Those charges won’t last a day!” Malfoy spat. “Without dementors at Azkaban, he’ll be out before the end of summer!”

“I’m not talking about the ministry.” Harry touched his scar and Draco paled for a moment. “I felt Voldemort’s rage at your father’s failure. Things aren’t going to go well for the House of Malfoy.”

“I will make up for my father’s failure,” Draco hissed.

“He’ll kill you too,” Harry said. “He doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t care about anybody. You’re all just tools to be used. I’ve always hated you, Draco, but I never thought you were a fool. I don’t know if he’s going to kill your father or not, but I know you’re going to pay for your father’s mistakes.”

“Shut up!” Draco yelled. He sent speckles of spit flying in his rage. He thrust the wand spastically, but did not fire any hexes. “Just…just…shut up, Potter! He’s going to kill you!”

“Maybe,” Harry admitted. “Probably. But will that make your life any better?”

He turned his back to Draco’s pointing wand, and continued toward the owlery. Somehow, he knew no hexes would come.

Hedwig was one of the few student-owned owls still at the owlery when he arrived. The rest were school owls. “Hello, girl,” Harry said as he rubbed her behind her left eye feathers. He absently fed her a few pieces of bacon he saved from breakfast.

After making sure his owl knew he still loved her, he stepped to the edge of the tower and looked out over the lake and forbidden forest. It was so beautiful, he found himself weeping again at the sheer intensity of what he saw. “What is wrong with me?” he muttered.

“Flubberglubs, of course,” a calm voice said behind him.

Harry turned around and saw Luna Lovegood standing a few feet away at the entrance to the stairwell. She was barefoot, he saw. “Aren’t your feet cold?” he asked.

“Very much so,” she said as she wiggled her toes at him. She had a stack of parchment under one arm—he caught a few words and realized it was a flier for her many missing things.

She stepped to his side and looked out over the valley. “It is quite beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked. The breeze played with her hair as she looked out over the lake. Harry found himself following the line of her jaw, and her porcelain skin. She turned then and looked at him, and he could not look away from those silver-gray eyes.

Delicate fingers, of skin so pale he could see her veins, touched the tattoo of Ravenclaw on his hands. She did not say anything, but he could see the question in her eyes.

“Luna, have you…has anyone close to you ever died?”

“Yes,” Luna said in a normal, conversational tone. “My mother. She was quite an extraordinary witch, but she liked to experiment, and one of her spells went rather badly wrong one day. I was nine.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said.

“Yes, it was rather horrible. I still feel sad about it sometimes. But I’ve still got Dad. And anyway, it’s not as though I’ll never see Mum again, is it?”

Harry stared at her. “Isn’t it?”

She shook her head and smiled. The smile reminded him of a famous muggle painting. “Oh, come on. You heard them, just behind the veil, didn’t you?”

And she was right. He was sure that he had heard the voices, even if no one else did.

“I loved Sirius,” Harry said. Once more, he amazed himself by his incessant need to talk. “He was my dad’s best friend. It felt like I was connecting with Dad every time I jugged Sirius. But it doesn’t hurt as much as it did. Sometimes I don’t think it hurts enough.”

Luna smiled gently and gripped his hand a little tighter. “Something happened to you.”

As much as he loved Hermione and Ron, he had never felt comfortable divulging his heart and soul to them. In fact, he never felt comfortable divulging his heart and soul to anyone. But it was different with Luna. She knew just what to say and when to say them.

“I had a dream the morning after the battle,” he admitted.

She nodded but said nothing. She simply waited, without judgment, without pressure.

“It was…” he felt his cheeks flaring. “Intense. I had just heard some things from Professor Dumbledore that I had a…they were hard to hear, I guess. And then I saw my mother. Not like a vision. She was there and I could feel her arm on my back. She led me to the room of requirement and started taking my clothes off.”

“That sounds interesting,” Luna said, her eyes widening.

Harry’s cheeks grew so hot they hurt. “She wasn’t Mum anymore, though. She changed, and suddenly it was Hermione. Then it was you. Then Daphne Greengrass, and finally Susan Bones. She kept changing. And we…er, did…things.”

“I see,” Luna said. He noticed her slightly quickened breath.

“But that’s just it; your faces kept changing until it wasn’t any of you anymore. She said…she said she was Hogwarts. She said she was waiting for me, that I was the Heir of the Founders and that she had bonded with me.”

“Well, that much is obvious,” Luna said. “Flubberglubs gather ‘round newlyweds and newly bonded. Newly bonded couples are always very emotional. I saw a cousin of mine crying because of how pretty a bird was on the day he married. Are you feeling really emotional?”

“I…maybe…”

She stepped close enough that her shoulder touched his side. So close, he realized she was a very petite girl. She took his left hand in both of hers and lifted the tattoo up before their faces. “You don’t remember getting this, do you?”

“In the dream, she gave me an amulet,” Harry explained. “It burned through my hand, but then was gone. It really hurt.”

She nodded, and then before he realized what was happening she brought the crest on his hand to her lips. She brushed her lips very gently across the hand in a kiss, but the sensation was so powerful Harry fell to his knees. Luna actually went down with him, flushed brightly about her face and neck. “What was that?” Harry whispered.

“I’m sure I don’t know,” Luna said breathlessly. “But I rather liked it. Was that what your dream was like, Harry?”

“Yeah,” he admitted.

“You know that wasn’t a dream now, right?”

“I’m beginning to wonder.”

She gathered herself to her knees. “What did it feel like, Harry? When you loved her?”

“Incredible,” he admitted. “What does it mean, though?”

“I’m not sure, Harry, but I know who could help us find out.”

“Hermione.”

Luna nodded. “She was in your dream too, wasn’t she? She was the first face you saw. So you obviously care for her.”

“I care about all of you. But what about Greengrass? I don’t think we’ve said five words to each other in five years.”

Luna shrugged. “You have tattoos for Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. Do you have them for Huffleputt and Slytherin?”

Harry nodded.

“And in your dream you saw Hermione, a Gryffindor; me, a Ravenclaw; Susan Bones, a Hufflepuff, and Daphne Greengrass, the prettiest of the Slytherins and one of the few, if I’m not mistaken, who has not been mean to you or your friends.”

“Well, no more than anyone else,” Harry said.

“And if you had to choose anyone else from Slytherin, who would it be? Pansy Parkinson? Millicent Bulstrode?”

Harry shuddered, but then paused. “What do you mean, choose?”

Luna smiled and then gathered herself to her feet. “I’m not sure I know what I mean,” she said. “It is quite exciting, though, isn’t it? I suddenly find I have a very strong desire to kiss you.” She giggled. He had never heard Luna giggle. “Shall we go find Hermione and ask her?”

“After we find your things,” Harry said firmly.

“That is good too,” Luna said with a more normal laugh. “Do you feel strangely happy, Harry?”

“Considering everything I’ve been through, yeah I do. I loved Sirius so much, Luna.”

She took his left hand again. “I loved my mum very much too. But I know she’s still with me. The ones we love always will be.”

Her hand simply felt right in his, and together the two of them walked down the tower to fetch the rest of her things. When they reached the Gryffindor commons, Harry recruited Neville, Ron, Hermione and Ginny to the task as well, and the six of them scoured the castle until they finally found the rest of Luna’s things.

After the end of term feast, in which Dumbledore once again said a few words on unity and safety, Harry pulled Hermione aside and led her to the library. He wasn’t surprised when he saw Luna already there, waiting for him.

The three of them walked into the completely empty library and picked a table as far from the entrance as they could get. With a surreptitious glance at Madame Pince, Harry cast a series of silencing and privacy charms around their table.

“Okay, what’s going on?” Hermione finally asked. “Is this about what you did the morning after the battle? Madam Pomphrey said it should have been impossible for me to be healed, but somehow you did it.”

“Tell her about your dream, Harry,” Luna said.

“Yes,” Hermione said, cautiously. “Tell me about this intense dream you had. A dream that made you blush. Was it naughty, then?”

“Er…” Suddenly Harry couldn’t speak.

“Oh yes,” Luna gushed. “He dreamed that Hogwarts turned into a woman with all our faces and had sex with him.”

“All our faces?” Hermione looked pale.

“Yours and mine, Susan Bones and Daphne Greengrass,” Luna said. “I was quite flattered to be in the list. You, Susan and Daphne are all so very pretty.”

“I bet,” Hermione said with narrowed eyes. She returned her attention to the brightly blushing Harry. “You’re a teenage boy, Harry. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised or harsh with you. But if you think…”

“And in his dream,” Luna continued as if Hermione had not spoken, “Hogwarts gave him an amulet that burned into his hand, and suddenly he had tattoos of the four house crests.”

“What? Let me see!”

Harry showed her the back of both hands. “The other two are on my feet,” he said. “Ron and Neville saw them yesterday morning.”

“Maybe it was something you did in your subconscious while you were dreaming,” Hermione speculated.

“Oh, he did have sex and bond with someone, though,” Luna said. “You can see it on him.”

“It was a dream!” Harry said.

“I don’t think it was, Harry,” Luna said. “You changed that morning. You have all the after affects of a bonding. You’re very emotional. I think Hogwarts really has bonded with you.”

“Luna, that’s just silly,” Hermione said. “I know he’s been emotional, but there are a lot of good reasons for it. You’re talking about this castle as if it were alive.” Suddenly she cried out and disappeared from view below the table. A moment later her hand reached up to grip the edge of the table and her startled face followed.

Harry jumped to his feet. “Hermione, are you okay?”

“My chair disappeared,” Hermione said. She glared at Luna. “Why did you do that?”

“I didn’t,” Luna said.

“Hermione, look,” Harry said.

The three of them looked down at the floor. The stones had somehow gone completely transparent. In plain view was Hermione’s chair, floating just under the surface of the floor. As they watched, it rose back up as if breathing the surface of a pond, until everything returned just as it had been.

“Er,” Hermione said. She gingerly sat down and looked around the room. “Sorry?”

Harry’s head jerked up. “Do you hear that?”

“I think I do,” Luna said.

“Hear what?” Hermione demanded.

“It sounds like the castle is laughing,” Harry said.

“Great,” Hermione muttered. “It’s not enough that all the boys make fun of me, now the castle is too.”

“The boys do not make fun of you,” Harry said.

“Do they make fun of me?” Luna asked innocently.

“That’s a trick question,” Harry said. “Everyone makes fun of you.”

“Not you.”

He smiled. “No, never me.”

“So what else about this dream?” Hermione said.

“She said I was the founder’s heir. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and because of the scar, Slytherin.”

“The Founder’s lines are all dead,” Hermione said. “The last surviving line of any of the Founders was the Hufflepuffs, and they died out in the 50s.”

“Perhaps the direct male line,” Luna pointed out. “It’s been a thousand years. It’s quite likely that anyone with pure blood is related to a founder in one way or the other. The House of Potter was an old line.”

“I don’t understand what it all means, though,” Hermione said. Her eyes looked far away and her lips pursed together in thought. “I guess I could do some genealogy research over the summer,” she said. “The Ministry has very through genealogy records going back even before the founders.”

“Hermione, could you do one more thing for us?” Luna asked.

“What’s that?”

“Could you kiss the back of Harry’s hand?”

“What?” Harry asked.

“What?” Hermione asked.

“His right hand, please,” Luna said.

“What on Earth for?”

Luna batted her eye lids. “Would you rather I kiss you instead?”

“What kind of choice is that? Why do you want me to kiss his hand?”

“I want you to kiss the Gryffindor tattoo,” Luna said. “It was interesting when I kissed the Ravenclaw one.”

“You kissed Harry?” the last came out as a flat statement.

“I kissed the back of his hand,” Luna said. “I would kiss him on the lips, if you thought it would help you decide.” She turned to Harry. “Would you like me to kiss you? You could tell me if it compared to that dream that wasn’t a dream.”

“Oh hush!” Hermione said. It just so happened she was sitting across from Harry on his right side. “Let me see the hand.”

Blushing furiously, he held it out. “Hermione, you don’t have to, it’s not like…”

She brought it up and kissed it. The electricity of the moment shocked them both. He was instantly grateful that he was sitting down, and noticed a flush that spread quickly down Hermione’s face below her shirt line. “My God!” she whispered. “What was that?”

“Does that mean you want to kiss Harry too?” Luna said in a dreamy tone. “I’ve been wanting to kiss him since I kissed his hand too.” She paused. “I wonder if this means Susan and Daphne are going to have to kiss your feet? I’m rather glad Ravenclaw was on your hand, I would think kissing your feet could be troublesome.”

“I just don’t understand any of this,” Hermione said. “But I’ll figure it out.”

“If anyone could, it would be you,” Harry said.

 


	3. In Which Petunia Has a Bad Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Petunia really does have a bad day.

Six students walked together across the platform in Hogsmeade.   A pocket of calm seemed to surround them.  Other students moved subtly out of their way, so they walked unimpeded toward the train.  The other students watched them, some whispering after their passage, others just watching. 

Harry did not even notice.  His mind was on what had happened in the past two days.  The strange euphoria from the dream lingered, strengthened by Luna and Hermione both kissing his hands.  Neither of the girls spoke of it again after they left the library, but he was conscious of their eyes on him, and they way they followed him with their gazes. 

Ron was oblivious, of course.  Neville noticed, but said nothing.  Ginny merely watched, her lips pursed and her eyes looking hurt.  But she said nothing.

They climbed into the train and claimed their compartment in the last car.  The ride home was continually interrupted by a stream of traffic, which considering they were in the very last car, was odd.  But every so often, someone would just pop their head in to say hello.  Sometimes it was on the pretext of looking for Ginny, or Neville, or Ron.  But quite often they just opened the door and said hello.

Floating on his lingering euphoria, Harry smiled back at them and engaged every person who came in a little conversation, before they moved on.  When Susan Bones finally came by with Hannah Abbot by her side to supposedly check on Neville, Luna perked up and said, “Susan, would you kiss Harry’s right foot?”

Susan stared as if shot.  “What?”

Everyone else stared as well.

“Er, never mind, Susan,” Harry said quickly.  “It’s nothing, really.”

“She said she wanted me to kiss your foot.”

“His right foot,” Luna corrected.  “Would you?”

“I should think not,” Susan said, drawing herself straight.

“Never mind!” Harry said quickly.  “I’m sorry, Susan.  It’s been a bad couple of days.  We’re all a little loopy.”

“You mean Loony,” Hannah muttered.

Luna sagged a little in her seat, and suddenly Harry felt a flash of irritation.  “Luna is my friend,” he said into a suddenly chilly compartment.  “I would die for my friends.”

Hannah’s eyes widened and she paled.  “I’m…er, sorry?” She spun around to leave.   “Come on, Susan.”

Susan, however, was staring at Harry.  “Why would she say that?” Susan asked.

Next to Harry, Hermione suddenly blushed scarlet, and even Luna’s pale cheeks had a spot of color in them. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry said quickly.  “I’m sorry it came up.”  He stood and took her elbow gently to guide her into the hall behind Hannah.  “We’ve been through a lot, and Luna sometimes does say odd things.”  He turned to Hannah.  “A lot of people hurt her this year by saying mean things, and stealing her stuff.  But she stood with me and fought with us.  I owe her my life.  Please don’t say mean things about her.”

Hannah opened her mouth, but then closed it and nodded.  “Okay,” she said simply.

Harry looked back at Susan.  The dream vision of her large breasts, nipples pointed and mesmerizing, swaying in time to her rocking flashed through his mind, but he managed to shake if off quickly.  “Thank you for coming by, Susan.  I appreciate it.”

He let go of her elbow and stepped back into the compartment.

He never saw the way she reached up with her left hand and cupped the elbow.  “Are you hurt?” Hannah asked.  “Did he hurt you?”

“No,” she said.  “That’s just it.  It feels warm.  It’s been aching all day, but it doesn’t hurt any more.  It feels warm.”

Hannah snorted.  “Please don’t tell me you have a crush on Harry Potter now too.  I thought I was going to gag when I saw Greengrass watching him yesterday at the feast.”

“Greengrass?” Susan said.  “Daphne Greengrass was watching Harry at the feast?”

“Malfoy looked ready to hex her,” Hannah said.

“More like she was going to hex Harry.”

“Don’t think so,” Hannah said.  “If you’d seen her expression, you’d know.  She looked just like you do right now.”

\--

\--

Harry was not expecting the welcoming crowd at the station.  Mad-Eye Moody, Tonks, Remus Lupin, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and the Weasley Twins, Fred and George, were all waiting for them when he and his friends arrived. 

The conversation that followed between the Order of the Phoenix members and the Durlsey family was one Harry never thought he would hear.  Nonetheless, he wondered if it would actually make anything better. 

Before he split off from his friends, though, Hermione hugged him and even kissed his cheek.  The sensation of it was still intense, and left her blushing and breathing harder than normal, and his head spinning from it.  A moment later, Luna also stepped forward and hugged him.  Then, inexplicably, she hissed him not on the cheek, but square on his lips.  Once again that electric feeling shot through him, from his lips to the balls of his feet.  It took an act of will he didn’t even realize he had to stay on his feet.

“Yes, very nice,” Luna said, flushed once more.

Harry sputtered a bit and then grinned sheepishly with a shake of his head.  “Have a good summer, Luna.  Stay in touch.”

“I will,” she promised.

“Wotcher Harry!” Tonks said from nearby with a wolf-whistle. 

Harry ducked his head and walked back to the Dursleys, never noticing Ginny’s expression.

Vernon looked apoplectic from his discussion with Mad-Eye.  Aunt Petunia simply looked scandalized.  Dudley looked jealous.  They had obviously seen the hugs and kisses.  “Get in,” Aunt Petunia hissed.

Harry placed his trunk in the boot of their car and climbed in with Dudley.  Once they were all in, Petunia turned around and stared at him.  “Those…those…trollops of yours had better not come anywhere near our house.”

Harry should not have been surprised by the spite in her voice.  He should have kept his mouth shut.  The Harry from just last week would have kept his mouth shut.  But the words were coming before he even realized it.  “The people who murdered my parents are back.  I fought them a few days ago, and those trollops fought at my side.  You should be happy, Aunt Petunia.  My godfather died in the battle.  The whole magical world is on the brink of war with a Dark Wizard more powerful than anyone in generations.  He wants to kill me, and anyone around me.  Good thing those blood wards are up and that I’m coming back to your house to renew them, isn’t it?”

She paled to the color of bone while Vernon sputtered.  Finally, he managed to turn his great bulk around.  “Now see here, you little freak!” he started.

“If I leave your house,” Harry said with a calm that surprised even him, “the blood wards will fail.  Voldemort and all of his followers will know where you are.  He’ll know you were my guardians.  I’m told that he makes his victims beg him to die.  That those he doesn’t kill are so bad off, they will kill themselves, if they have enough of their minds left over.  He’ll do this to you, Uncle Vernon, whether I’m there are not.  And truth be told, I don’t particularly feel like being at Privet Drive.  The more you mistreat me—the more you try to starve me—the more I’ll feel like leaving forever.  I have friends now who love me, and would gladly take me in.”

He leaned forward until he was an inch from his uncle’s face.  “Would you really like me to get out, Uncle Vernon?”

Vernon turned back around but said nothing.  Petunia too faced forward, and without another word between the three of them they drove back to Little Whinging. Dudley made a strange whimpering sound as they started.

That night, alone in the second bedroom, Harry took his glasses off, laid down in his uncomfortable bed, and gazed into the darkness of his room.  Gradually, his eyes closed and he dreamed.  This wasn’t his normal nightmare of Voldemort killing his mum.  No, this was a dream bordering on fantasy.  Of the woman who called herself Hogwarts slipping his pants down while brushing her lips against the fine down of his stomach hair.  Her lips moved in time with her hands, finally resting on the quickening swell of his penis.  He shuddered as she brushed her tongue the tip. 

She straightened and he saw her breasts bulging huge and succulent under the diaphanous fabric of her gown.  Even that fell away as she shrugged the gown off.  She leaned back over, her breasts hanging down and brushing against his hips as she again brushed her tongue against his manhood. 

“Please,” he whispered.

He felt her lips close around the head, then slide further along his shaft.  He felt her fingers close around the base of his manhood and stroked even as her tongue played with him.  It was the most incredible thing he had ever felt in his life. 

She looked up at him, and he looked down at her, stunned by the sheer beauty of it.  He could see the swell of her breasts resting warmly against him.  He could see her lips stretched as she held the head of his penis in her mouth.  Finally, she straightened.  His eyes tracked down from her face, to her breasts and the eraser-like nipples there, down to the auburn triangle above the welcoming lips of her sex. 

“You want me?” she said.  Her voice sounded both within his head and without, just like in the castle.

“Yes,” he said in a quivering voice.

He could not move as she climbed onto the bed and positioned that glistening triangle of auburn hair directly above his hips.  She reached down and grasped his manhood, and once again positioned herself carefully over him before she guided him into her body.

The bliss of it struck almost like the opposite of a _cruciatus_.  He felt such overwhelming pleasure as the head of his manhood sank in between the lips of her sex that it almost hurt.  She sank further and further down until he was completely within her.  She then rose an inch, only to sink down even further.  As she did so, lifting up and sinking down, her face again began cycling through the faces of the girls he saw before.  Only this time, her whole body changed.  Hermione’s breasts were not nearly as large, but hung pert and erect and bounced so enticingly as she bounced up and down on him.  Her hips were narrow, her pubic hair the same bushy color as her rest of her hair.  Yet she looked down at him with half open lips and a smile in her eyes.

Then it was Luna.  Her body was narrow and petite, as pale as milk and just as soft, but with proportionately large breasts.  She guided his hands to her sex and the hair there was so blonde as to be invisible.  “Touch me,” she begged, guiding his thumb to the nubbin just above where his glistening shaft impaled her.  “Yes,” she breathed.  She shivered and writhed under the double touch of his love and his thumb. 

The shivering made her body widen, her breasts become larger and heavier, and suddenly it was Susan over him, rocking with her mouth open and a low moan emanating from her lips.  “Please,” she was saying.  “Don’t stop touching me.”  Her rocking became more frantic.  No longer was bouncing up and down, but instead was grinding against Harry, as if to further the sensation.

Only, it was Daphne now.  “You have to love me!” she almost screamed in ecstasy.  She raised her arms above her head and grasped her hair as she arched her back. Her breasts were more conical shaped than the others, ending in perfect round circles the color of rose where they pointed into nipples.  They were jiggling frantically as she rocked her hips and pushed against him.  “You have to love us!”

He didn’t understand it.  His dream vision blurred and somehow he was making love to all four of them.  But around each he now saw a halo of color.  Green around Daphne, silver around Luna, red around Hermione and gold around Susan.  “Love us!” they cried.

The wonderful pressure built at the base of his balls, and he moaned with the release as his seed exploded within her.

Only to wake up rather messy.  He didn’t dare risk using a cleaning charm on himself, so he climbed out of bed long enough to change his boxers.  It was the only thing that saved his life.

As he finished pulling on the new boxers, the wall beside his bed, the bed, and much of his nightstand exploded.  The blast threw him violently against the inner wall.  He cleared his eyes long enough to say, “ _Accio_ wand!”

His wand came to his hand just as a silver-masked figure in black robes stepped through the hole with a broom in his hand.  Harry responded instantly:  “ _Stupefy!_ ” he shouted, pouring magical energy into the spell.

The stunning curse hit the man in the center of his chest.  He flew back through the hole with a gurgling scream as Harry turned and blasted a hole through the wall. 

“What is going on here, boy!” Vernon cried as he came lumbering out of his room.  He had his shotgun in hand.

“We’re under attack!” Harry cried.  “Get Dudley and Aunt Petunia out of here!”

“You don’t tell me what to do…”  He never finished his sentence.  At that moment, Vernon Dursley’s head exploded. 

His uncle’s body actually swayed a moment before toppling to the floor in a spray of blood.  Harry stood frozen in shock.  A small corner of his mind registered the blood all over his face, and admired how well the moister-repelling charms worked on his glasses.

Across the hall stood Petunia Dursley.  She stared, jaw open, without comprehension.  “Harry?” she asked. 

Over her shoulder, Harry saw movement.  “ _Accio_ Aunt Petunia!”

With a startled scream his aunt flew across the room just as a vicious cutting curse slammed into the doorway.  Harry snatched her from the air and with muscles borne from five years of Quidditch pulled her toward the stairs.  “Dudley, get out here!” Harry cried.

The first bedroom door burst open and Dudley came stumbling out.  “What’s going on?” he cried.  Another curse hit the wall behind him.  The explosion sent the large boy tumbling down the stairs.  Harry watched in horror as his cousin impacted he and his Aunt, and all three of them finished tumbling down.

“Vernon!” Petunia whimpered.

“He’s dead, Aunt Petunia,” Harry said.  “The wards have failed somehow.  Come on!”

Not wanting to risk the front, Harry led his stunned aunt and whimpering cousin out the back door.  They stopped just beyond when they found a half-circle of twelve death eaters standing in their way. 

The ones on the end raised their wands and both Petunia and Dudley fell to the ground screaming under the _cruciatus_ curse. 

One of the death eaters removed a mask, and Harry found himself staring into the maddened eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange.  “Poor, ickle little Potter,” she snarled.  “No help coming this time.  No prophecy to hold over our heads.  You’re not walking away this time!  _Crucio!_ ”

Harry joined the last remnants of his family on the ground as the pain coursed through his body.  Just as quickly, it passed.  “So, boy, are these your beloved family members?  Your Aunt, right?  And your little cousin?”

Dudley whimpered. 

Bellatrix looked down at the large boy and placed her wand in his ear.  “Hello, big boy,” she whispered with gruesome smile.  “Do you know what the magic word is today?”

“Nnn…no,” Dudley said.

“Don’t!” Harry shouted.

“It’s _diffindo_.”  Dudley’s body jerked.  Harry saw something erupted from the other side of Dudley’s head into the grass of the garden.  He then went completely, terribly still.

“Dudley!” Petunia shrieked.  “Duddikums!  Little Duddikums!  What have you done to my son?  What have you done you filthy freak!”

Bellatrix sat on Dudley’s too-still chest and laughed at Petunia’s rage and fear.  Harry began to pull his wand to bear, but then felt the _cruciatus_ again. 

“Freak, am I?” Bellatrix said.  “Oh yes, I am a freak.  A horrid bitch I am.  Don’t worry though, I’m killing you first so little Harry here can watch and enjoy.  And then when you’ve died, I’ll make him suffer for the rest of the night.  Doesn’t that just sound lovely?”

Petunia’s rage melted into terror.  Harry watched, in agony himself, as his aunt was subjected to an hour of some of the darkest magic he had ever seen or even imagined.  All the while, Bellatrix laughed and sat on the dead body of Petunia’s only son.

In the end, Petunia was incapable of making sound when Bellatrix beheaded her with a slicing spell.

“Well,” she said, perky.  “That was refreshing!  It’s been too long since I’ve enjoyed myself.”  She turned those wild eyes to Harry, who lay curled up in a ball and shivering from the _cruciatus_ curse.  “Whatever shall I do with you?  Perhaps we can start with…oh yes.  This will be perfect.”

She raised her wand, and suddenly Harry was not there.

The curse struck the grass beneath him and gouged a foot-deep trench.  “What is this?” Bellatrix shrieked.  “What is this?  Where is Harry Potter?  Where!”

\--

\--

St.John Granger ran into his daughter’s room with his wife Calliope a step behind.  In her bed, Hermione was screaming and thrashing about as if in agony, though her eyes were closed. 

“’Mione!” Calliope cried.  “Wake up, darling!”

When calming hands and desperate words could not wake her, St.John Granger did something he had never done and would never have imagined himself doing.  He struck his daughter, once, with an open palm.

The blow woke her suddenly and she sat up, gasping desperately for air.  “Harry!”

She looked around but could not find him.  It took several calming words before Hermione realized where she was, and who she was with.  She grabbed onto her mother with such a tight grip Calliope winced.  “Sweetie, what is it?”

“Harry,” Hermione said.  “They’re torturing him.”

“It’s just a bad dream,” her father said.

She backed away from them.  “No it isn’t!” she hissed.  “It’s happening right now!  We’ve got to get you out of here.  They’ll come for me next.”

“Who?”

Hermione was half-way out of bed when she realized something dreadful.  Her parents didn’t know.  She had kept everything from them, for fear they would try and make her withdraw from Hogwarts.  She turned and faced them now with a quivering lip.

“I’m sorry I’ve been lying to you,” she said.  “I’m so sorry.  I’ve told you how wonderful the magical world is.  But I was lying.”

“Then you’ll stop going,” St.John said, just as Hermione knew he would.

She shook her head.  “It’s too late, Dad.  We’re at war.  A real, honest-to-God war.  Harry and I were in a battle last week at the Ministry of Magic.  Against dark wizards who want to kill anyone like me who isn’t a pure blood.  And when they’re done with that, they’ll start killing muggles like you.  But they know who I am.  Me and the others who fought there.  They know, and they’re going to come after us, just like they’ve gone after Harry.”

“Hermione, just calm down,” her father said.  “We’re perfectly…”

“ _Stupify!_ ”

Calliope stared down at her unconscious husband in horror.  “Hermione, did you just…how…why…how could you do such a thing?”

Hermione had tears in her eyes.  “I’m so sorry Mum.  I can’t let them hurt you. I can’t.  _Stupify_!”

She left her unconscious parents in her room and telephoned the only person she knew who had a telephone, and could help.

\--

\--

Andromeda Tonks never liked telephones, but as the wife of a muggle-born wizard who still clung to the luxuries of his muggle past, she recognized the need.  She lifted it from its cradle just to silence the incessant ringing.  “Yes?”

“This is Hermione Granger.  I need to speak to Tonks.  Is she there?”

“I’m sure Nymphadora is here. May I ask what it’s about?”

“I need help!”  The voice on the other side sounded young and terrified.

“Dora, there is a Miss Granger on the phone who says she needs help.”  The seriousness of the situation became apparent when her daughter came barreling down the stairs in her Auror’s robes. 

“Wotcher, Hermione,” she said as she nearly ripped the phone from her mother’s hands.  “What’s up?”

Andromeda watched as her daughter’s hair flared red with anger.  “I’ll be right there.  We’ll floo the headmaster and let him know.”

She dropped the phone.  “Mother, please floo Dumbledore and let him know Harry’s been attacked.  I’ve got to go help Hermione with her parents.  She thinks they’ll be next.”

Andromeda, though, simply stared.  “Potter is supposedly behind impenetrable wards.”

“They got penetrated.  Go!”

\--

\--

Ten minutes after receiving the floo call, Dumbledore arrived on Privet Drive.  Only, Number 4 was gone.  Moments later Alastor Moody joined him, followed by Kingsley Shacklbolt.

“What is this?” Moody demanded.

“These aren’t the blood wards,” Dumbledore said, aghast.  Anti-apparition wards, powerful notice-me-not charms and other protections that were not their own hid Number 4 Privet Drive almost as thoroughly as the blood wards did. 

Never in their lives had Kingsley or Moody seen the venerable old wizard so visibly upset as they did then.  He almost shook with fear and rage.  His magic flowed powerfully about him, and the aurors had no doubt that any Death Eaters they encountered would suffer a horrible death.

They arrived on the edge of the newly fashioned wards, and Dumbledore started working on them feverishly.  Mad-Eye and Shacklebolt did the same.  Within half an hour other members of the Order had joined them as they drained the ward’s power.  It was an hour, however, before they were able to break through.

Kingsly sucked in a breath—it did not look good so far.  They could immediately see a hole blasted into the front of the house.  As they rushed forward, Kingsley saw a body in the bushes.  He ripped the mask off.  “It’s Goyle Senior.  Dead.”  He performed an auror trace.  “He was killed with a stunner, Mad-Eye.”

“Even stunners can kill, if they have enough power,” the old auror said, though he sounded surprised. 

Dumbledore said nothing as he walked through the already open door.  As they stepped in, all of them smelled the distinctive iron-laced tinge of spilt blood.  Kingsley ran upstairs and found the first body.  “Looks like Durlsey,” he called down.  “Hit in the head with a blaster curse.”

He continued to search and returned when they found nothing else.  Dumbledore led the way through the first floor of the house until they reached the back garden.  They heard a sound that might have been a moan from the old wizard as he rushed toward the bodies.

Kingsley recognized Harry’s cousin immediately, as well as the first-sized hole punched all the way through his skull.  He did not appear to have been harmed otherwise, though he suspected the boy had been tortured.

But the other body was hardly recognizable as human.  He identified at least a dozen very painful hexes in addition to dozens of slicing and banishing curses.  Every bone appeared to have been broken, every digit of her hands and feet first shattered and then severed.  Her teeth were broken or pulled.  Her eyes were gone, her nose and ears gone.  The list of horrors was written plainly across the corpse.

“Where is Harry!” Dumbledore roared.

Suddenly the enchanted galleons they used to communicate chirped.  “Albus, this is Minerva!  Harry is at Hogwarts.  He seems to have apparated directly into the school!”

Dumbledore turned and stared at his two comrades.  “We must go!” he said, and with that he disappeared with a pop.

 


	4. In Which Hogwarts Does Dumbledore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not as bad as it sounds.

The squeezing sensation faded, and Harry suddenly found himself on cold flagstones.  The memory of what he had seen and the residual agony of the  _cruciatus_ overcame what control he had, and he became violently sick all over the floor.

Before he fell completely flat, he saw the floor somehow absorb the vomit into the stones, leaving not a stain.

“Oh my beloved,” a familiar voice whispered.

It was the woman again.  Hogwarts, she called herself.  She knelt beside him, this time wearing a school robe with all four crests.  Her hands caressed his cheek.  Where she touched, the pain eased.  “How they hurt you, Beloved.”

Harry reached for her blindly, and she pulled him into her embrace as any woman would for one she loved.  The agony and horror of it ripped its way out of him in such body-wrenching sobs he was almost sick again.  Still she held him, crooning and rocking him like a child. 

It took perhaps half an hour, but finally the worst of the shock eased.  Harry leaned back and looked at her.  “You’re real,” he whispered.

“I am as real as you need me to be,” she said with such a gentle, loving smile Harry felt his eyes tearing up again.

“I watched them die.  I didn’t even like them that much, but I watched them die.”

“I know, Love.”

She pulled his head back to her soft, voluptuous chest.  “Are you really Hogwarts?”

“I am.”

“You made love to me.”

“It was a physical manifestation to help with the bonding,” she said.  “Just as my being here with you is a physical manifestation to aid you in your time of need.  I am the result of a thousand years of magic, and I have been waiting for you all that time.”

He held up a hand and showed the tattoo.  “What are these?”

“Your legacy,” she said.  “I was going to wait to tell you.  But I don’t think we have time.  I’m so sorry, my love.”

“But…I don’t…when Luna kissed my hand…and Hermione…”

“You’ll know soon enough, my love,” Hogwarts said.  “You will stay here.  You must.  Tell Albus, love.  He is not perfect.  He makes mistakes, but he would make a much better ally that an opponent.  I am fond of him.”

As quickly as before, the beautiful form of Hogwarts was gone.  He was alone again in the Room of Requirement, with nothing but blood-soaked pajama pants, a blood-soaked bare chest, his glasses, and his wand.  He realized that, just as happened after the battle at the Department of Mysteries, he did feel a little better.

He stumbled out of the room and stared down the stairs and moved to the first portrait—this of a shepherdess and her flock.  She stared down at him, aghast.  “Please tell someone I’m here,” he asked of the portrait. 

Not having any other destination, Harry started walking to the Gryffindor tower.  At the very least he might be able to shower.  Professor McGonagall found him halfway there and nearly fainted dead-away at the sight of him.

“Mr. Potter!” she all but shrieked.  “How did you get here?  What happened?”

He blinked at her, unable to understand why she would ask such a silly question.  “They’re dead,” he said, still a little dazed.  “The Dursleys are dead.  Bellatrix killed them all.  She tortured Aunt Petunia for an hour and made me watch.”

McGonagall was at his side in an instant, guiding him away from the tower.  He really wanted a shower, but for some reason he couldn’t quite get the words out.  He felt so dirty, soaked in his uncle and aunt’s blood. 

When they stopped at the gargoyle, he knew where they were going and simply sighed as they went up the stairs to the headmaster’s office.  She sat him down in one of the chairs and then ran to the floo, where she summoned Madame Pomphrey. 

The mediwitch arrived just moments before the Floo burst with green flame and Albus Dumbledore stepped into his office.  He was followed a moment later by Kingsley Shacklebolt and Mad-Eye.

 “Prolonged exposure to the _Cruciatus_ ,” the Mediwitch said with an angry clip.  “He doesn’t appear to have any physical damage otherwise.”  She turned to Dumbledore.  “I’m going to go get some pain potions and will return shortly.”

Dumbledore nodded before he too knelt in front of Harry.  “My dear boy,” the old man said, his voice shaking.  “I am so sorry.  So many terrible burdens, and now this!”

“You said I would be safe,” Harry said.  He was amazed at how even his voice was.  He tried to identify what it was he felt, but he couldn’t.  Everything simply felt numb.

“The blood wards never activated,” Dumbledore said.  “I didn’t realize it because my monitors were destroyed.”

Harry’s face betrayed nothing.  Dumbledore nodded.  “The wards simply failed to charge.  There is only one thing that would have done that—you’re coming of legal age, which hasn’t happened yet.  I’m so sorry, Harry.  I have no explanation for how this could have happened.”

Harry considered it a moment.  “What if…what if I had bonded?” he asked.

Dumbledore reared back as if slapped.  “Bonded?  Harry, with everything else going on, surely you didn’t…but any such bonding would have been recorded.  You’re too young to be married.”

“Not with a person,” Harry said.  “She told me to tell you.  She told me she was fond of you, even if you made mistakes. But she said you were a better ally than enemy.”

“Who, Harry?” Dumbledore asked.

“Hogwarts.”

“Don’t be silly, boy…” Moody began, but froze when Dumbledore silenced the scarred auror with a gesture. 

The headmaster reached down and took Harry’s hands in his.  He stared long and hard at the tattoos there.  He then looked down at Harry’s bare feet and saw the tattoos there as well.  “What did she look like, Harry?” Dumbledore whispered.  “How did the bonding occur, and when?”

 “It was the morning after the ministry,” Harry said.  “I fell down, and she was there.  At first she looked like Mum, but then her face changed to other people I knew.  She said I was the heir she’d been waiting for.  That she loved me.”

“Harry, you said you bonded,” Dumbledore prodded gently.

Even in shock, Harry could still blush as he glanced at McGonagall.  “She…we… I thought it was just a dream.  But I woke up with these tattoos, and Luna said I looked like I had bonded.”

Harry wasn’t paying attention to the others as he spoke.  When he did look up, Dumbledore’s face had paled to the color bone and Minerva was rearing back in her seat as if Umbridge had stunned her again. 

“This isn’t possible, Harry,” Dumbledore said.  “The Potter line is allegedly connected to the Gryffindors, but not to the other houses.  And most certainly not Slytherin’s line, which is well documented.”

Harry pointed to his scar, and Dumbledore suddenly exploded to his feet and stepped around his desk.  “Harry, I need to see the memory.”

He shook his head.  “It’s really personal.”

“It will only be the two of us, but I must see it.”  He unlocked his cabinet and removed his pensieve from it.  “Please, Harry, I must know exactly what she said.”

Blushing furiously, Harry finally nodded.  He watched as Dumbledore gently pulled the wisp of memory from Harry’s mind, and in moments the two of them were standing within the memory of his encounter in the Room of Requirements.

Only, there was no sign of the bed, or Harry losing his virginity.  There was the woman, though, standing calmly as if waiting for them, wearing the school robes with all four crests.  “Hello, Albus,” she said with a warm smile.  “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“How is this possible?” the old wizard said. 

Hogwarts laughed, and it was a gay, happy sound.  “Magic,” she said.  “Harry is bonded to me.  He will remain here this summer to learn and grow into his heritage.  You will help him.”

“Help him how?”

“You will teach him, Albus.  You will not manipulate him, or use him.  This war is not yours any longer, and the blood of the Founders in his veins will not tolerate him being used solely as a weapon.  So you shall teach him all you know this summer.”

“There are things I must do,” Albus said.  “Things I must find if we are to have any hope of stopping Tom.”

“You will train the Heir, it is his destiny.  Take him with you if you must, but you will train him.  As will the Founders themselves.”

Albus stuttered a moment, then nodded.  “I must know.  Why?  Why Harry?  Of all the terrible things to befall him, why add this additional burden?”

“He has been the chosen one since he received his scar,” Hogwarts said.  “One of my first charges was to protect the Founder’s lines.  I have been absorbing magic for a thousand years, knowing that the lines would have to be restored one day.  And Harry will restore those lines.  In him flows the blood and magic of all four, even Slytherin.  From his loins the four lines shall be reborn.  Make no mistake about this, Albus.  Harry is yours no longer.  He is mine, and I love him.  We will all love him.”

Harry was not really listening to what she said.  He was watching the headmaster.  He had never seen the old wizard so clearly stunned as he did at that moment, listening to a figure within a memory that shouldn’t have been there. 

A second later, they found themselves staring over the Penseive, where Harry reached in with his wand, snared the memory, and let it slide back into his temple.  In his mind, it was still the intense, astounding bit of lovemaking as it was originally.  Somehow, Hogwarts had altered their perception of it to communicate with the headmaster.

“That is remarkable,” Dumbledore said.  He spun to Kingsley, Alastor and Minerva.  “You are to repeat none of this,” he said with sudden strength.  “If I cannot have your wizard’s oath, then I’ll have to obliviate you all for your own sakes.”

Fortunately, the three were more than willing to give their oaths.  Dumbledore turned back to Harry.  “I suppose this means I’m going to have to make you head boy after all.”

\--

\--

Harry woke up the next morning not in his familiar Gryffindor room, but in one of the guest rooms near the headmaster’s office.  The room was as large as his shared dorm room, but seemed huge with only one comfortable bed, a desk and a private loo.

He luxuriated in a long shower—much longer than he would ever be allowed to take at the…Durlseys.  He leaned his head against the wall of the shower and closed his eyes.  Suddenly, of its own accord, the water started falling in waves of increasing and decreasing pressure, almost like a water massage.  It actually felt good. 

“Thank you,” he whispered with a knowing smile. 

“ _You’re welcome_ ,” the walls whispered back.

He stepped out of the loo to find his trunk and all his personal belongings waiting for him.  Dumbledore had sent Hogwarts elves to retrieve his things from the shattered house on Privet Drive.  He climbed into a faded, over-sized pair of jeans and a T-shirt, pulled on his socks and trainers, and went in search of breakfast.

He followed the smell to the faculty dining room off the great hall.  “Ahh, Harry, please come in,” Dumbledore said as Harry stood uncertainly at the door.  Inside he saw Professor’s Flitwick and McGonagall, Snape and Hagrid.  The other professors appeared to have gone home or were elsewhere.

“I’ve explained what has happened to your home,” the headmaster said with a solid gaze at Harry.  “You will be staying here for your safety for the remainder of the holiday.  And since we don’t bother with the great hall during summer, please come join us for a bite of breakfast.”

“Thank you, sir,” Harry said quickly.  He took one of the empty seats and stared at the platters of food.  Although the quantity was nothing like what they served when school was in term, the school elves still managed to make a filling breakfast of mashers, eggs and bacon.

Snape glared at Harry but said nothing.  Harry returned the look, and tried for the life of him to figure out why….

“What are you looking at, Potter?” Snape demanded.

“You,” Harry said.  “I should be so mad at you for what you did.  But I’m not.  I’m just trying to figure out why.”

“And I should care about this why?”

Harry shrugged.  “You asked me.”  He went back to his breakfast before glancing at Dumbledore.  “What am I going to be doing today?”

“We’re going to Diagon Alley,” Dumbledore said.  “We have an appointment at Gringott’s bank.  Also, since I appear to have you at my disposal, I need a favor which we will discuss at a later time.”

True to his word, shortly after breakfast they walked up to his office and flooed to the Leaky Cauldron.  Tom the innkeeper nodded at the two of them with a serious expression.  Dumbledore nodded back and led Harry through the brick wall in the alley.

Things were different.  For one thing, there were aurors everywhere.  For another, people moved quickly from place to place.  They kept their heads down, as if terrified of seeing anyone else.

Until, that is, they saw Albus Dumbledore walking with Harry Potter down the middle of the alley.  The response was overwhelming as people gathered on either side of the two of them, reaching out hands, calling their names.  “Has he truly returned?”  “What can we do?”  “Can the Chosen one really save us?”

The questions made Harry’s stomach churn.  Dumbledore plastered on what was, even to Harry, a fake smile and merely nodded at the people in a reassuring manner until they reached Gingotts.  The goblin guard watched the two arrive at the head of a small mob and darted inside.  A moment later, another goblin in 18th century muggle-style clothes stepped out.  “Professor Dumbledore.  Mr. Potter.  Your room is waiting.”  He led them into the bank, but the crowd stayed outside. 

The bank did not seem nearly as busy as the first time Harry stepped into it as a child nearly five years ago.  He followed the unnamed goblin into one of several large conference rooms, until he and Dumbledore sat across a table from the goblin.  “I am Griphook,” the Goblin said.  “I am have been given the honor to determine why four long-dormant vaults have suddenly become active.”

Dumbledore sat very still for the longest time.  “That is interesting,” the headmaster said.  “I was under the impression we were here for the reading of Sirius Black’s will.”

“The will is simple enough,” Griphook said.  He looked at Harry.  “Everything goes to Mr. Potter.  There is a possible counter-claim on the property at Grimmauld place, but everything else has already been transferred to the Potter family vault.  My question is to you, Headmaster.  Why have the first vaults become activated?”

“The first vaults?” Harry asked.

“Gringotts bank was founded a thousand years ago,” Dumbledore explained, though he kept his eyes securely on the Goblins.  “By treaty, no less, after one of the many rebellions.  Additional treaties gave them a monopoly.  But prior to that, Gringott himself was just one of several money lenders, although the only one that was purely magical.  Before the secrecy laws and the dominance of the Christians, it was not unusual to see wizards moving openly among muggles.

“But you see the Four Founders of Hogwarts also saw the need of a more organized type of money lending in the form of a bank.  It was quite revolutionary—centuries ahead of its time in either the muggle of magical world.  And so they hired Gringott, a powerful goblin money-lender, to handle their financial affairs.  In return, they would pay him a small fee.  Thus, the first four vaults at Gringotts were for Helga Hufflepuff, Salazar Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Godric Gryffindor.”

“And those four vaults are now reactivated,” Griphook said.  “This can only happen in the event the family line is restored.  We are concerned about this as all the contents of those vaults had escheated to the bank centuries ago.  Now, per our oldest contracts, the funds have been restored with interest.  The amount of money in those vaults could easily destabilize the wizarding economy not just here, but across the whole wizarding world.  What is happening, Head Master?”

“It appears, Master Griphook, that an heir to all four family lines has been identified.”

Griphook blinked.  “How can this be?”

“Magic, of course.  Assuming this is the case, how would you identify such an heir?”

“By their blood.”

Dumbledore looked at Harry.  “I believe a drop of blood is in order, Harry.”

Griphook made a strange coughing sound, as if he were choking on phlegm.  “Mr. Potter is the heir of the founders?”

“Let’s find out, shall we?” Dumbledore asked.

Griphook pulled what looked like a microphone out from under the table and spoke a few words of Gobbledygook, and a moment later another goblin entered the room with a parchment and a needle.

Harry did not even wince as he pierced the skin of his middle finger with the needle and let a single droplet of blood fall on the parchment where Griphook pointed.  The goblin then stared down at the paper so close that his long nose touched it.  “By the ancestor’s gold!” the creature muttered.  He looked up and glared at Harry.

“By the terms of our oldest contract, you are now the owner of the Hufflepuff, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor vaults.  But you must understand that if you attempt to withdraw that gold, it could be disastrous not just for Gringotts, but for everyone in magical England and possible wizarding nations around the world.”

“I can’t imagine what I would need with all that money,” Harry said.

“There is more,” the Goblin said.  “With the restoration of the vaults, all known heirlooms of the founders in our possession, or in the possession of any of our vaults, was automatically returned to their original place.  This includes several tomes written by the founders or their immediate offspring, jewelry, and a well known artifact of Helga Hufflepuff’s that was previously stored in the Lestrange Vault.”

Dumbledore placed a hand on Harry’s arm.  “Master Griphook, I believe I can convince Harry to show restraint in his spending of this new wealth, but I should ask for something in return.  Something, I should add, that I believe would be in everyone’s best interest.”

“Which is?”

“Do you not agree this is something that would be better kept between Harry and Gringotts?”

The goblin nodded.  “Of course.  If word got out that a boy not even sixteen years of age possessed nearly a quarter of the gold in the entire wizarding world economy, there would be chaos.”

Harry tried not to gape at that pronouncement.

“We are continuing to review the old contracts,” the goblin muttered. “We believe that there may be some lineage requirements, but we will not have answers for at least several days.  The contacts are, after all, over a thousand years old.”

“Of course, Master Griphook.  In the meantime, do you think it possible for us to visit some of these vaults?  And to have keeps prepared?”

“The first vaults did not use keys, they used blood,” the Goblin said.  “I will take you myself.”

\--

\--

Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks stood on either side of Hermione Granger as she watched her obliviated parents step through the boarding gates of Heathrow for a flight that would eventually land them in Sydney. 

She made no effort to hide her tears.  “They won’t ever forgive me,” Hermione whispered.

Tonks pulled her into a one arm hug.  The Grangers were out of sight now, on their way into the plane.  Hermione hiccupped and wiped her nose with a wadded tissue.  “I have no idea what I’m going to do now,” she confessed.  She looked over to Remus.  “Is Harry okay?”

“He made his way to Hogwarts somehow,” Remus said.  “He’s there with the headmaster.”

She nodded and fought a desire to flee to him. 

The three of them started walking out of the terminal.  They each stepped into a bathroom, where Remus disapparated from the men’s room and Tonks took Hermione in a side-along.  A moment later the three of them were walking up the sidewalk to the front door of the Tonk’s residence. Andromeda opened the door without waiting for them to knock, and in moments they had Hermione on the couch with a cup of tea.

The young witch stared despondently into the cup. 

“Hermione,” Lupin finally said, “can you tell us how you knew Harry was in trouble?  Albus’s monitoring equipment was broken—not even he realized what had happened until you contacted us.”

She looked up at her former professor and tried to summon a smile.  “I felt it.”

“What now?” Tonks said.  She opened her mouth to speak more, but Remus laid a hand on her wrist.  Hermione expected the young auror to snap at him for the presumption, but instead her hair turned pink and she looked down.

“Can you describe what it was like?” Remus asked kindly.

“Like I was feeling the _cruciatus_ ,” Hermione said.  “Like I was there and could see everything he saw.  I saw them kill his cousin and torture his aunt until she was scarcely human. It was Bellatrix.”

“My dear auntie,” Tonks snarled.

The silence was shattered by the shrill ring of the telephone.  “That blasted contraption!” Andromeda said.  She marched to the phone and answered it.  “Yes.  Why, yes she is.  Who is this?  I see.  I think that may actually be wise. Thank you.”

She put the phone done.  “Dora, I think you and Mr. Lupin should escort Hermione to the Weasley home.  I understand a classmate of hers is there in a somewhat bothered state.”

Hermione nodded with sudden clarity.  “Luna,” she said. 

“Why, yes.  How did you know?”

“She would have felt it too,” Hermione said. 

“How, Hermione?” Remus asked.

“I don’t know for sure.  But we should go.”

One floo later, Hermione stepped into the familiar living room of the Burrow.  The first thing she saw was Luna Lovegood curled up in a ball in Ginny’s arms, still weeping.  The rest of the Weasleys stood around in confusion.  Molly, Ron and the twins were all there.

A moment later Remus and Tonks stepped out. 

Luna looked up, her eyes red-rimmed.  “Is he okay?” she said.  “It was so horrible!”

“He’s okay,” Hermione said.  “He’s at Hogwarts.”

Luna picked herself up a little unsteadily from Ginny’s arms, and then almost fell into Hermione, clinging to her.  “I didn’t think it would be like this.  I knew it would be different, but not like this!”

“What’s she talking ‘bout?” Ron asked.

It was Ginny, however, who spoke.  “She loves Harry.  They both do.  And I bet Susan Bones is on the list too.  That’s why Luna made that weird comment about Harry’s feet.”

“Harry’s feet?” George asked.

“Susan Bones?” Fred asked.

“They love Harry?” Ron asked weakly, as if he’d been struck.

“Nonsense,” Molly said.  “You’re just young, and you’ve all been through a terrible time.  Now, why don’t we sit down and have a nice cuppa.”

Hermione, though, was looking at Ron over Luna’s shoulder.  He was looking back at her with a broken expression.  She felt something tugging in her chest.  Ignoring everyone around them, most especially Ron’s mother, she stood Luna gently to one side, stepped to Ron, lifted up on her toes and kissed him.  The kiss lasted perhaps longer than it should have, but when they parted Ron had a slightly goofy smile on his face to offset his mother’s shocked expression.  Ron’s smile, however, faded when he saw that Hermione was crying.  She backed away, crying hard enough that the sobs bent her frame. 

Ginny stood up, alarmed as well.  “What’s wrong?” she demanded.

It was Luna, however, that placed an arm around Hermione’s shoulders and looked at the stunned and confused adults around them.  “She’s fancied you, Ronald,” Luna explained.  “Surely you know that’s why she was forever bossing you, to try and make you the best wizard you could be.  Why she was angry at you when you asked her to the Yule Ball too late.  But now she realizes she is not meant for you.”

“This is wonkers,” Tonks muttered.

“What is all this about being meant for anyone?” Molly demanded loudly.  “You’re all just teenagers!”

Remus, however, was staring at Hermione and Luna with wide eyes and pale cheeks.  He stepped around until he knelt in front of the two distraught girls.  “Hermione, can you tell me what’s happening?”

She sniffed loudly and took a long, shuddering breath.  “Something happened to him, Remus.  Something I’m not sure I can explain.  He healed me.  Dolohov’s curse should have taken three more days before I could even get up, but somehow he healed me.  I don’t even need the potions. I thought it was just stress over the battle, but every time I touched him…”

Ron finally started to understand, and it was not a happy expression on his face.  “So you fancied me, until you started to fancy Harry,” he said.

“Ron, I’m sorry,” Hermione spun around.  “I didn’t mean for this to happen.  I’m still not sure how it happened.  I’m not sure of anything.  Except that…what I felt for you has changed.  I love you Ron, but just now it felt like the love I’d have if you were my brother.”

Ron’s cheeks flared a dangerous shade of red.  Muttering, he stomped past her and Luna toward the stairs.  Molly stared flabbergasted by the whole affair. Finally, though, she threw her hands into the air with a huff and went after Ron. 

The twins just sat down and looked from face to face.

Hermione collapsed all the way to the floor, sobbing again after Ron left.  Ginny knelt down in front of her as Remus moved to Hermione’s other side opposite Luna.  “I’m so sorry,” Hermione said as she sobbed.  “I didn’t mean to have those feelings for him.  I wish Luna hadn’t made me kiss that bloody tattoo!  I’ve been a bloody emotional wreck since then!” She looked up.  “Maybe it’s a compulsion charm!  Maybe what I’m feeling is fake, like a love potion.  Ginny, maybe it’s all just a mistake.  Maybe it’s the tattoo that’s making me feel this way!”

Ginny tried to smile, but she couldn’t.  Her own eyes were growing moist.  “I don’t think that’s it,” she said.  “I remember the way the two of you used to talk when I first started school.  I was so jealous of you, Hermione.  I remember the look on your face when you told me how Harry saved you from that troll.  The way he looked at you when you helped him during the TriWizard Tournament.”

“Ron was the one who knocked the troll out,” Hermione said.

“Ron was the reason you were there,” Ginny reminded her.

“And though we are not in love with either Harry nor Ron,” George said,

“We should point out it was Harry that made Ron go with him,” Fred added,

“To save you,” they finished in unison.

Ginny shook her head and turned back to Hermione.  “Third year and fourth.  I watched you.  He loved you then, and I think you loved him too.  The problem you had, Hermione, was that you never thought you were good enough for him.  He was a famous wizard, even if he was just Harry to us.  So you befriended just Harry, while convincing yourself you weren’t good enough for the Boy Who Lived.”

Hermione stared back, her sobs for the moment forgotten.  “You love him,” she realized.  “You love him too.”

Ginny felt her eyes sting.  “I always have,” she admitted.  “I loved the thought of him before I even met him, but when I first saw him standing along on the platform, all the stories I’d read about him seemed to just fall apart.  This wasn’t a famous wizard or celebrity.  It was a scared young boy looking for a friend.  I was ten years old, and I fell in love with Just Harry right there.”

Hermione looked down at her hands.  “Ginny, I’m so sorry.  I promise I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Beside her, Luna hiccupped loudly.  “I’m sorry too, though not for falling in love with Harry.  He’s the only one never to make fun of me.”

Hermione paused and waited for the anger to come.  Instead, she felt warm hands take hers.  “I love Harry Potter,” Ginny said very softly as a tear rolled down the freckles of her cheeks.  “I love him so much, that all I want is for him to be happy.  And if he’s happy with you, then that’s the best I can hope for.”

Hermione turned to the younger girl, and then wrapped her tight into a hug.  She felt Ginny sob into her shoulder, and couldn’t help but reciprocate.  “It’s not easy loving Harry, is it?” Hermione asked.

They parted and simply stared at each other for the longest time.  Finally, though, a slender finger reached out and collected a tear from Ginny’s cheek.  Luna stared down at the tear for the longest time.  “Don’t give up completely, Ginevra,” the pale girl said.  “There will always be hope.”

“So,” Fred said loudly, “does this mean Harry has a harem?”

“Will you have to take numbers?” George said.

“Maybe Harry can have a sign like McDonalds.  Now serving number 10.”

“Number five hundred.”

“Tonks, better get in line!”

“Enough,” Remus snapped at the twins.  “Ginny, why did you mention Susan Bones?”

“Harry’s dream,” Hermione said.

“Oohh, a dream about Susan Bones!” The twins leaned forward eager for details. Hermione glared at them.

Ginny did more than that.  She jumped to her feet and whipped her wand out before either of her older brothers had a chance to react.  “Get out!” she hissed in rage.  “Get out now!”

Startled, the twins disappeared with a pair of pops, and for the moment they found themselves alone.

“Now, about this dream…” Remus said.

“I know what it means.  Harry is the heir of the Four Founders,” Luna declared.  “Hogwarts herself came to him as a woman, and has bonded him to the castle.  In his dream, he saw me, Hermione, Susan Bones and Daphne Greengrass.”

“Daphne Greengrass?” Ginny asked. She sniffed loudly.  “A Slytherin?”

“One girl from each house,” Hermione explained.  “He has a crest from each house on each of his hands and feet.  Hufflepuff was on his right foot.  That’s why Luna said what she did.”

“But why?”

“Because if you kiss them,” Luna said, dreamily, “you have the most delicious feeling.  And it doesn’t stop.  I have been wanting to kiss him since then.”

Hermione flushed with obvious embarrassment, but nodded.  “Me too,” she admitted.  “It’s just crazy.  It’s not like he can have all of us.  He’s going to have to choose one of us.”

“Why?” Luna asked with an owlish blink of her eyes.  “He’s the heir of the Four Founders.  Magically he’s at least four people.  He needs a wife from each house to continue the Founder’s line.”

Hermione stared in horror.  “You’re joking!  I’m no polygamist!”

Remus suddenly fell down.  All the girls stared; Tonks rushed to his side.  “Are you okay?” she asked, hovering over him with much more concern than appropriate for an auror and a victim. 

Remus shook his head a moment and then buried his hands in his face.  His chest started to shake, and Tonks looked stricken as she put a hand over his back.  Then they heard it.  It was not the sound of crying.

Remus was laughing.  He was laughing so hard he was having trouble breathing.  He raised his face from his hands, flushed and laughing so hard he was crying.  Tonks sat down next to him, obviously confused.

He caught his breath and looked at them all.  Four beautiful young woman, three of whom were in love with his best friend’s son.  “James Potter would be so very proud,” he told them.  “And Lily would be mortified, much as you are now, Hermione.  Luna, do you truly believe he is the Founder’s Heir?”

“I heard the castle laugh,” Luna said.

Hermione nodded.  “The castle made me fall out of my chair when I laughed at Harry for mentioning the idea that the castle was alive.  I think…I think I offended Hogwarts.  When I said sorry, I got my chair back, and Luna said she heard it laughing.”

“Well, I knew the House of Potter had a direct claim to the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor line through the two founder’s children.   Rowena Ravenclaw’s daughter had a son out of wedlock before the Bloody Baron killed her.  So it’s possible they could have interacted somehow.  And as for Slythin…”

“Voldemort transferred the magic of Slytherin to Harry as a baby,” Hermione said.

Remus nodded.  “If all this is true, then legally speaking Harry is four separate people.  Five if you count the House of Potter as its own line.  If he dreamed about four girls, two of whom he only has a passing relation with, then it seems to me that Hogwarts is telling him he has to restart the lines.  Therefore there would have to be a Lady Gryffindor, a Lady Ravenclaw, a Lady Hufflepuff, and a Lady Slytherin.”

“That’s ludicrous,” Hermione said.  She stood up, shaking.  “I’m not going to share a boyfriend!”

“We’re not discussing boyfriends,” Remus said.  “We’re discussing wives and husbands.  If he is truly the Heir of the Four Founders, then he will have to have at least four wives.  And that, my young friends, is why James would be so very proud, and why Lily would be so very mortified.  Harry is going to have to revive a pureblood tradition that we haven’t seen in at least two centuries.”

 

 


	5. In Which Harry Gets Medieval

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn life a thousand years ago was really that fun.

On his second night in Hogwarts, Harry had a different type of dream, but one no less intense.  He dreamed of war.  He dreamed of Godric Gryffindor. 

He didn’t just dream of Gryffindor, he dreamed he WAS Gryffindor.

And he was tired.  So very tired.

He stood on a hill looking over a valley covered in death.  Bodies carpeted the once grassy valley in the brisk autumn sky.  A few streaks of clouds scarred the otherwise perfect blue of the sky.  It should have been a beautiful, glorious day.  The Lion of Gryffindor once more proved his mettle and once again was handsomely rewarded in the Saxon traditions of Wessex, paid in the gold taken from the bodies of the fallen.

Wizards and witches, mostly.

“Gryffindor!”

Godric tiredly turned to face his king.  Aethelstan was no longer a young man.  Now aged 42 years with sixteen years on the throne of Wessex, the middle-aged king still strode tall and strong in his mailed suit and helm.  His hand never strayed far from his mighty sword named Heathen-Slayer. 

“Five kings have I lost this day,” Aethelston said. 

“Many earls did the enemy lose as well, my Liege,” Godric said.  “Including Causantin mac Áeda’s own brother.  The day is yours.  The Strathclyde and Alba kingdoms have given submission.  You are now the king of the Britons.”

Aethelston’s fierce eyes took on a distant look.  Like Godric, the king had seen battle and the blood and grime from it coated his mail and the red cloak he wore over his shoulder.  His helm had several dents.  But otherwise the king was unharmed.  “Of all Britons,” he said.

His eyes cleared.  “You have done great service to me this day, Lion of Gryffindor.  You shall have lands and gold aplenty.  All the kings saw you challenge their war wizards and bring them low.  We saw how you killed many of their witches and their evil kin.  We also saw you take many bodies from the field as is the custom of you wizards.  A great boon does this king owe you.  Name your wish, my friend.”

Gryffindor nodded.  “I wish peace, my liege.  There is a valley between the kingdoms of the Strathclyde and Alba, where wild boar run free and few if any people live.  I wish to take my spoils and the slaves I gained in battle, and live there in peace.”

Aethelstan’s eyes narrowed.  “That is far from my throne, my friend.  Far from the reach of my sword.  You would be caught between the Norsemen and mac Áeda of the Scots.  Is this truly what you wish?”

“I shall cast great enchantments on the valley,” Gryffindor said without pause.  “None who are not of my kind shall enter, save you as my liege or by right any king of the Angles.”

“My friend, why do you do this?  Why cast yourself and your kind apart from us?”

Gryffindor looked back at the line of trees that bordered the valley floor.  It was in those trees that Godric hid most of his spoils.  “My liege, today for your glory I killed forty two wizards and fifteen witches.  They were young and weak by our kind’s standards.  Poorly trained by foolish masters who themselves knew so very little.  I am strong, yes, but I also learned my arts among the Franks and studied at the great libraries of Egypt and the Orient.  I have done pilgrimage to the magical lands of the Romans, and learned much.  The blood on my hands and on my sword is the blood of children.  They came because they were called by the Norseman and his alliance with mac Áeda.  I killed them for my pledge to you.  But I did not wish it, and I wish it never to happen again.  I wish to take those foolish children and teach them proper arts, and let them never use their magic against the proper kings of this land.  We are of this land, my liege, but we are not of your kingdoms.”

Aethelstan listened in growing silence.  Before him stood the great Lion of Gryffindor, the most powerful warrior wizard in the land.  A wizard of such prowess in battle and magic that his name was sung from Rome to Dunnottar.  Aethelstan personally watched the man storm into battle with a sword in one hand and a wand in the other, heedless of the warriors around him.  No enemy sword touched him; no vile witches’ curse came close.  Yet the man stood weeping unabashedly before his king.

“These past years you have done much for me,” Aethelston said at last.  “Your spells have healed my wounds; your wand and sword have taken the lives of my enemies.  But today you have done more for me and for this land than any other soul.  For this, you shall have your wish.”

Gryffindor bowed deeply before his king, not trusting himself to speak.  When at last he reached his tent, his two attendants greeted him quietly and began the tedious process of removing his mail and armaments.  Another attendant stepped forward with warm towels heated in the steam of boiling water. He accepted the towels gratefully and began to wipe the horror of battle from his arms and face.

As he cleaned himself, a dark-haired man in robes that looked reminiscent of a cleric’s garb stepped into the tent.  He handed an earthenware vial to the warrior.  “A new potion,” the man explained. 

Gryffindor drank it without pause, and to the shock of his attendants a puff of steam shot from each of Godric’s ears.  “Gods, man!” Gryffindor said after gagging, “what hellish concoction was this?”

Salazar Slytherin grinned.  It was a decidedly predatory look.  “I’ve yet to name it.  The taste is vile, but tell me, old friend, how you feel?”

Godric stared at the other wizard for a time, before he gave a broad smile.  “Truly, my friend, I feel stronger than I have since this bloodied business began!”

“Precisely!”

Gryffindor bellowed with laughter.  “Well done, Salazar.  Well done!”

Salazar took his leisure in a camp chair near the other wizard while the attendants brought wine, meat, cheese and bread for the two of them. He broke the bread and handed half to Gryffindor, while Godric used his eating knife to carve an entire breast from the fowl and handed it to his friend.

“So,” Salazar said, “what did your king say to your words?”

Godric looked his friend in the face.  “He said aye, Salazar.”

“You do not sound enthused, my friend.”

“It is a hard thing you have talked me into,” Godric admitted.  “This is the only life I have ever known.  I have been a warrior since I had age and strength enough to wield a sword and a wand.  To just take our slaves and hide away from the world feels wrong to me.  Yet as I said to the king, I so tire of the blood.”

“How many nights have we spent discussing this?” Salazar said.  “How much magical blood did you have to spill this day for these _mugatu formala_ fools.”

“Don’t spout your Basque tongue at me, heathen,” Godric said, though he laughed as he said it.  “ _Mugatu formala_.  A long word for those without magic.  Perhaps you should call them _Gatus_.”

“ _Gatu_?” Slytherin said with a shudder.  “Only a Frank like you could utter such a sound without becoming ill.  No, perhaps _Mugas_.  It is a dirty sound, just like the dirty people I would use it for.”

Gryffindor stilled a moment.  “My friend, don’t let your hatred for them poison you for the whole of your life.  You are young, still.”

“Celesta was my life,” Salazar said, all hint of humor gone.  “I cannot hold the _Mugas_ in anything but hatred.”

Gryffindor said nothing as he took a large bite from his meat.  Finally, after a few minutes of eating in silence, he said, “Well, my friend, I suppose we should see our slaves.”

“I have seen them,” Slytherin said.  “Olaf Gutthrithson brought many witches and wizards with him, more than mac Aeda.  Most who fell by your sword were the wizards of the Scots and Picts.  Those we captured were from the Norselands.”

“Then show me, Salazar.”

The two wizards left Gryffindor’s tent in the center of Aethelstan’s camp in a place of honor near the king.  The soldiers of the king’s army and his vassals gave Gryffindor respectful nods and bows for his prowess on the battlefield, even while they eyed Godric’s dark friend warily.  Salazar Slytherin had, on more than one occasion, cursed any soldier who crossed his path.

Finally they came to the great wooden cages that held prisoners of war awaiting either ransom, or waiting to be divided and enslaved.  There were three cages—the one on the farthest edge of the camp stood apart from the others because in addition to its normal fastenings it had also been sheathed in the strongest spells known to magic to prevent either escape or the use of magic.

“Do you have the manacles, old friend?” Godric said. 

Salazar nodded and summoned the first of the manacles.  Godric swept his eyes across the dirty, defeated faces of the witches and wizards before him.  He noticed that those wizards that survived were young and untrained, but filled with hatred.

The witches were also obviously angry.  Godric’s eyes fell on one young witch in particular.  She was obviously a Norse witch, with long blond braids falling down her back.  Her maiden’s dress was cut low to reveal a heaving bosom the color of fresh cream.  Angry blue eyes stared at him from the center of a round, comely face.

He remembered her not only for her beauty, but for the fact that she was one of the few who presented a true challenge both in her power and her skill.  He stepped directly in front of her.  “You, girl, what is your name?”

She spit at him.

“I think she likes you, Godric.”

Godric nodded, but did not take his eyes from her.  With a wandless spell, he released the bonds on the cage before her, and the wooden beams barring her exit folded away.  She eyed him warily, but stepped out without hesitation.  She set her feet as if to do battle. 

“I am Godric Gryffindor,” he told her.  He spoke in Latin, since he did not know the Norseman’s tongue.  “I am he who took you in battle.  By all rights you are mine to free, enslave or to kill at my leisure.”

Surprisingly, the witch understood.  “I know who you are, scourge of Staff-Bearers,” she muttered.

“And your staff has been broken, witch,” Gryffindor said.  “Yet even as I defeated you, I noted your strength.  You are young to have such power, child.  Tell me who trained you.”

“I am prenticed to Aegir, prenticed by Skuld.”

“Aegir I know not,” Godric said.  “But of Skuld I have heard.  A great and powerful witch she was.  My own master was honored to know her.”

The witch scoffed.  “What is it you wish of me?  I shall die by my own hand before I let your filthy hands on me.”

“It might be worth your life for just that chance,” Godric said.  “You are a woman of great beauty.  But this day I have other goals in mind.  You are to come with me this day, all of you.  You shall come with me of your own free will as my vassals, or in chains as my slaves.  I shall accept your oaths to follow.”

“And why shall we follow you?”

“Because if you do not follow, you shall be dragged,” Godric said coldly.  He allowed his power to flow out of him, so that the staff wizards of the Norse could feel the sheer strength of it. 

“And you shall not take leave with the witches?” the woman said.

“I shall treat all my vassals as any other servants,” he said.  “If I choose to take my pleasure with a woman, it is my pleasure to take.”

The woman grimaced, but said nothing as she turned and looked at the others.  Her eyes dwelt on a brunette beauty even younger than she, and then on the other witches.  Finally, she turned back to Gryffindor.  “I’ll give my oath to you, Staff-Breaker, and even my sex if need be, if you give your word as well than no other witch among us will suffer at your hands, or the hands of those under you.”

“Listen to this whore,” Salazar muttered in high Frankish.

“I am no whore, you dog!” she snapped back in the same tongue.

Godric could not help but laugh at his friend’s expression.  “A woman of many tongues.”

“A way to get a many-tongued lashing,” Salazar bit back.  “Kill her and be done with it; we can work with the rest.”

The woman tensed, obviously ready for a fight.  She and the Norse used staffs rather than wands, and without hers she was little more than one of Salazar’s _mugas_.  Still, she stood defiantly and ready to fight.

Gryffindor realized that, at that moment, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.  “No,” he said at last, “I shan’t kill this one.  I shall teach her.  I am your new master, Wicce.  I shall build you a wand, and together we shall discover just what power you possess.  And you and your people will have a chance at life.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Because, in return for the oaths of you and your people, I will give you one of my own.  I am Godric Gryffindor, Earl of Wessex.  The ring-giver Aethelstan has granted me a boon of land—land no other sets foot on.  It borders the Strathclyde and Alba, and I shall make a great fortress there, and it shall be a refuge for all witches and wizards who tire of the petty wars of ordinary men.”

Something in his words must have caught the witch’s attention.  She straightened a little out of her fighting stance.  “War is all a beast like you knows.”

“So it has been,” Godric agreed.  “Our kind may live far longer than our normal cousins.  For forty years I have fought for them.  But I grow weary.  I caused your brothers and sisters to fall, and I could not help but weep for them.  So I got to the Valley of the Boars, and I will erect enchantments of such power no mere mortal men shall dare set foot in it.  And you shall come with me, and be the heart of this new land.”

“You speak great words, Staff-Breaker,” the woman said.

“I dream great dreams, and wield great magic to make them so.”

“And you give your oath that none of my people shall be harmed?”

“So long as their service to me is just and good, so shall I be just and good to them.  But you, child, I will have as my own to train.”

She lifted her chin bravely.  “A fair trade.  I am Helga of the Blowing-Winds.”

Salazar laughed.  “She names herself for her mighty flatulence?”

She swung her hand with an enraged growl, and an elemental burst of wind struck the Basque wizard full in the face.  He flew back from her and landed with a thud.  “I am a wizard of the winds, foul beast!”  
“Helga of the Blowing-Winds indeed,” Godric said.  “But you are Norse no longer.  We are not Norse or Frankish or Wessex.  We are not Brytons.  We are wizards, and from this day forward we shall owe allegiance to ourselves alone.  So, Helga of the Great Puffing Air, I give you this oath: I, Godric Gryffindor, Earl of Wessex and captain of the Angles, swear upon my magic that no wizard shall be harmed by me or mine who joins me willingly in the Valley of the Boars, so long as the abide by the common laws of the land, and so long as Helga Puffing-Air shall consent to be my apprentice and vassal in all things.”

The magic of the oath poured through the small space.  The Norse magicals—wizards under twenty and witches with their children—found they had little choice but for what hope Gryffindor gave them.  One by one, they gave their oaths and the magic locked the oath in place.  Last was Helga herself.  She looked Gryffindor in the face as she gave her own oath, of the loyalty of a vassal and an apprentice.

They both knew that what she was giving him was more than the loyalty of a vassal.  He made clear what he wanted, and she bargained that desire for the safety of her people.

\--

\--

Harry woke with a start and sat up abruptly.

Hogwarts perched on the edge of his bed, once more dressed in school robes.  “Pleasant dreams?”

He sat up further and took a deep breath.  “I like my dreams with you a lot better,” Harry said.

Hogwarts laughed at him in delight.  “I would be disappointed if it were otherwise.”

Harry blinked as a throb of pain pounded through his brain.  “Why does it hurt?”

“It was not just a dream, Harry.  It was a lesson.  Your first from the founders.  Gryffindor, I would say.”

“He was in a battle.  He spoke to a king named Aethelstan.”

“Yes.  That was in 937 by your calendar.  Godric built me in the fashion of his Frankish homeland.  Before him, this island had never known such a castle as this.  It would not be until William conquered this land that such castles would be commonplace.”

“Godric...” he flushed.  “I never realized Helga Puffing…I mean, Helga Hufflepuff was a…she was his slave?  That wasn’t in Hogwarts: A History or in history of magic.”

“Godric never allowed it to be spoken.  He grew to love her, and she in time to love him.  But more, he respected her.  By the time the school was built, she was one of the most powerful witches alive.  The two of them had titanic fights that sometimes scared even Slytherin and Ravenclaw away.”

The brunette, the beautiful one with the green eyes.  “Ravenclaw was also one of the Norse prisoners, wasn’t she?”

“Rowena and Helga were both captured fighting for the Scots, Picts and Norsemen against Aethelstan.  They were captured, along with all the northern wizards and witches in the battle, but like Helga, Rowena proved her worth and her power, and went on to be the most famed researcher in the magical world.  She built upon the Greek practice of observation and created the foundation of spell research and experimentation.  It was she who created the first wards, and she who apparated for the very first time.  Though Gryffindor created the first wards of Hogwarts, he did so using designs made by Ravenclaw.”

“Why don’t they teach any of this in History of Magic?  It would be a lot more interesting than endless goblin rebellions.”

Hogwarts laughed and reached out to run a hand fondly through his dark hair.  “I do love you so, my Harry.  Come, Albus will be coming soon.  You must be ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“Your first day of training.”

Harry ate breakfast with the staff that morning after another long shower.   Afterward, Harry and Albus went to the great hall together.  “Well, my boy, I suppose it is time to start training.”

Harry nodded. 

“First, I must say how proud I am of your accomplishments.  It is no easy task producing a _patronus_ at the age you did, or producing _protego_ charms as powerful as yours.  But what you will learn is not just spells, but the applications of those spells.  Are you aware, Harry, that the Death Eater you stunned in your home was killed?”

Harry blinked.  “Killed?”

“You stunned him with so much power, the shock of the impact snapped his neck.  Wizards may bounce, but we are not invulnerable, as you well know.  You have great power, Harry.  Much more, in fact, than any other student in Hogwarts.  What I am going to teach you is how to use it.”

And so he did, one-on-one.  Albus proved himself a patient and effective teacher, proof of his many years in the profession before he assumed the Headmaster role.  He knew exactly how to explain what he needed Harry to do, and was quickly able to assist when Harry did something wrong.

They worked on simple spells that Harry already knew.  What he learned was power application.  Not just brute force versus light power, but also the placement of the power itself.  He learned how to actually direct the lifting force of a _leviosa_ spell, how to angle his _protego_ more effectively to either absorb, deflect or even redirect enemy spell fire. 

It was probably the most enjoyable lesson he had ever had, save for those few classes Remus Lupin taught during his Third Year.  He was so engrossed in what he was learning he did not even realize it was lunch time until Albus called a break.

They paused long enough to eat a lunch of roast beef sandwiches before resuming their lessons.  This time, Dumbledore transfigured several moving targets, and they started to apply the lessons of the morning.  Midway through, Harry surprised both himself and Dumbledore.  He shouted out, _“Torri!”_ with a violent slash of his wand.

There was no telltale flash of light.  His target simply shuddered, and then fell apart into a hundred pieces.  Dumbledore blinked owlishly behind his glasses.  “A Welsh hex, Harry?  I assure you that is not on any curriculum.”

“Err, it’s something I dreamed about last night,” Harry muttered.

“Ahhh,” the old wizard said.  “Hogwarts said she would be training you as well.  I happen to know from history that such a spell was a favorite of a certain Godric Gryffindor.  War magic not seen since.”

Harry nodded.  “Did you know that Helga Hufflepuff was really beautiful when she was younger?”

Dumbledore smiled.  “As it so happens, I may have heard that once or twice.  Show me what else you dreamed about, Harry.  Perhaps by combining the lessons taught by myself and the school, we can cover more ground.”

Harry surprised both himself and the headmaster with the sheer number of spells floating in his head.  Not just the spoken words, but the wand motions and the intent.  He found himself shouting old Frankish curses along with the Latinate forms, accompanied by an occasional Greek hex.  Godric was a well-educated man for his time, and that knowledge seemed to float just on the edge of Harry’s perception.

Even with all these spells in his head, though, Dumbledore still had things to show him.  The headmaster’s knowledge was astounding, and if Voldemort was a threat to this incredible old wizard, Harry wondered what he could possibly hope to do. 

“There is one last thing to do today, Harry,” Dumbledore said, winded but with a surprisingly happy smile on his face.  He transfigured a wall of steel in the middle of the room.  Then he made another and another, until a four-foot thick wall of metal stood in the middle of the room.

“We have yet to test the upper range of your power, Harry.  This is a test you take when you begin auror training.  I want you to shoot a blasting curse at this wall, but I don’t want you to end it.  I want you to continue to pour as much power into the curse as you can, and do not stop until I tell you.  You remember what I showed you this morning about prolonging and strengthening spells.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said.  He raised his wand, took a deep breath, and fired the hex.  He poured his magic into it.  He touched something else, then, something he had never felt before his morning’s dream.  In all his adventures, all the terrible things he had experienced, he had never felt this strange rage, this overwhelming urge to destroy that he felt at that moment.  With a half-articulated cry, Harry harnessed that anger and poured it into the spell.

“Harry, enough!”

He blinked and pulled back with a deep breath.  That breath stopped a moment as he surveyed the damage.

The four-foot thick wall of steel was split right down the middle, as was the wall making up the back of the hall.  He watched, breathless, as castle elves quickly and efficiently repaired the damage to the wall itself.

“Hmm,” Dumbledore said.  “How very curious.”  He sounded just like Ollivander. 

“Was that wrong?” Harry asked.  “Did I do it wrong?”

“Wrong?” Dumbledore said.  He suddenly laughed.  Harry could not ever remember hearing the headmaster laugh.  “No, dear boy.  You did nothing wrong.  Extraordinary, but not wrong.  There have been perhaps five wizards in the course of history who could do what you have just done.  Sadly I do not fall within their number.  Lord Gryffindor, however, does.  This dream you had must have been extraordinary.  I cannot wait until you dream of the next founder.  Tell me, are you at all tired?”

“A little,” Harry admitted.  “But not too bad.”

“Curious indeed,” Dumbledore said.  “Well, I don’t know about you, my boy, but after nine solid hours of lessons, I am both famished and exhausted. I am not as young as I used to be.”

Harry gaped in surprise.  “Nine hours?”

Dumbledore banished the steel blocks and the two went for a quiet dinner in the headmaster’s office, rather than the staff lunch room.  While there, Dumbledore began giving Harry another lesson.  They spoke about Voldemort.

As Harry ate a deliciously season lambchop and greens, the headmaster described the first time he met Tom Riddle.  How he knew there was something wrong with the child.  “If I had known I was looking at the most dangerous wizard of our times, I do wonder what I would have done,” Dumbledore summed up.

“Headmaster, there’s something I’ve always wondered,” Harry said.  “How was Voldemort able to come back?  How was he able to survive without his body?”

“That, dear boy, is the rub.  How indeed.  Do you remember the book that nearly led young Miss Weasley to her doom four years ago?”

Harry nodded. “Tom Riddle’s diary.”

“It was more than just an enchanted book, Harry.  Within it dwelt a piece of Riddle’s very soul, placed there by a ceremony so dark it has been banned even from discussion.  I am of the belief that the book was a horcrux.  And there are others.”

“What does that mean?”

Dumbledore steepled his long, age-spotted fingers together before his mouth.  “Voldemort broke off pieces of his soul and used those pieces as anchors to this world.  When he died in the back-lash of your mother’s blood sacrifice, he lost his body.  But his spirit was firmly anchored to this world.  So while a single horcrux remains, Voldemort is in essence immortal.”

Harry went very still.  “While they remain.  That means…”

“If we are to have any hope in defeating Tom, we have to destroy all his horcruxes.”

Harry felt a spark of anger.  “When were you going to tell me this, sir?”

“I was actually going to show you this coming year,” Dumbledore said lightly.  “I had it all planned out, you see. Pensieve memories giving you a background on Tom’s character.  I was also going to do a little hunting on my own this summer, for leads I already had.  I was going to go slowly, building you up for the finale.  And then I was going to set you free to go chasing the horcruxes with your friends.”

“And now?”

The old wizard chuckled.  “Harry, would you believe me if I told you as of July 31st, I will be one hundred and fifteen years old?  Yes, Harry, coincidentally we share a birthday.”

Harry, though, did not care about the birthday.  He did the math and, “You were born in 1881?”

“My parents were legal adults when the Americans fought their civil war,” the Headmaster said.  “We wizards are very long lived.  I will be quite shocked if you don’t see one hundred fifty.  I tell you this, Harry, to give you context.  I have not been young in a century.  I was already in my sixties when I fought Grindelwald.  It has been a very long time since I was a man your age.  And when I was, I admit I had but few of the terrible burdens you have had to bear.  I have come to realize that in many ways I have failed you.  I have tried to control what information I gave to you.  In my caring for you, I unintentionally caused you harm.  No more.  I cannot promise I will never hurt you, Harry.  But I will promise that I shall no longer lie.  If you have a question to which I have an answer, I shall share without hesitation.”

“Thank you, sir,” Harry said.  “So can we beat Voldemort?”

“We can,” Dumbledore said firmly.  “And we must.”

“Now, dear boy, I wish you a very good night, and productive dreams.  I look forward to learning what you dream about in the morning.”  He stood and removed a large leather-bound book from one of his shelves.  “In the meantime, I would like you to read this.  It is the grimoire of Rowena Ravenclaw.  Her spellbook.  It was her research into Arithmancy that laid the foundations for all future ward construction.  Before her, wards as we know them today did not exist.  I wish you good reading.”

Harry returned to his room.  That night, he dreamed of a raven-haired beautiful with cold blue eyes sleeping on a bed of leaves under a cold, clear sky filled with billions of stars.

She lifted from the leafy mat on her elbow, and saw a man staring at her.  Sallow complexion, pitch-black hair and dark eyes as cold as ice.  Around him slithered snakes, and he was hissing at them.  The snakes slid up her legs to her horror, but she could not speak or make a sound.

“My friend is easily swayed by a nice bosom,” the man said in Latin, “but I am not so forgiving.  You and yours challenged us.  You and yours should be dead this day.  For your crimes, I shall have my payment.  And I tell you this now, witch.  I am a master of serpents.  They hear me and obey.  Speak a word of this to any, and I shall visit such torments on you as you shall ever know.”

A pale hand grabbed at her bodice and pulled it roughly away, while a series of spells kept the girl from crying out or fleeing.  Thus Rowena Ravenclaw could do nothing but lay under the stars as Salazar Slytherin tore away her dress and raped her again and again.

 

 

 

* While it might seem this last scene was one I would have had more detail  in the NC-17 version of this story, and while it was necessary for the latter part of the story, I refuse to dwell on or write an explicit rape scene.


	6. In Which Harry Gets Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See what I did there?

 “Headmaster,” a pale Harry said the next day, “can I ask a question about Rowena Ravenclaw?”

“Of course, Harry.”

The two sat in the great hall perhaps two hours after breakfast.  Already they had trained hard enough to raise a sweat on both. 

“I had a dream about her last night, after I read some of her grimoire.  It was about her and Slytherin.”

“Ahh, the age-old question,” Dumbledore said.  “There has always been speculation as to whether the two of them were ever intimate or not.  The identity of Helena Ravenclaw’s father as never revealed.”

Harry stared up at the stained glass window showing the image of the beautiful witch from a thousand years ago.  “Headmaster, last night I dreamed I was Rowena just after she was captured by Godric Gryffindor after the Battle of Brunanburh.  It was before they even reached Hogwarts valley.  I think…she was…”

“Harry, what is it?”

“Slytherin raped her, sir.  He raped her again and again.  He thought she was nothing more than a captured slave, and so he treated her like a piece of property.  Almost every night he came to her and did those…things to her.  Gryffindor fell in love with Helga and treated her with respect.  He never forced himself on her, not really.  Okay, well, maybe a little the first time, but she didn’t fight all that much.  I don’t know how things worked back then.”

“Not well,” Dumbledore said.  “Women, and even more so slaves, were considered property, Harry.  I know it is a difficult concept for us today, but nonetheless that was the world Godric and the other founders were born into.  Rape was not punished as a crime except where it was considered the violation of another man’s property, and usually that was settled with money rather than punishment.  Slytherin was not atypical of his time, whereas Godric most certainly was.”

“You’re defending Slytherin?” Harry said, aghast.

Dumbledore shrugged.  “These dreams of yours, Harry, I understand you are seeing the past through their eyes.  Let me ask you this—in your dream of Gryffindor, what was he feeling when he first laid eyes on Helga.”

Harry’s cheeks flushed scarlet.  “He, uh, envisioned her bent over naked.”

“And in your dream, how long until she was in fact in such a position?”

“I think that very night.  She fought him too.”

“He raped her, in essence.”

“It didn’t feel like rape, though.  It felt like she was testing him to see if he was worthy.  And once he passed her tests and proved he was strong enough, she…well, she wasn’t trying to stop him, I’ll tell you that much.”

“Indeed,” Dumbledore said.  “Nonetheless, Harry, in our time what he did would most assuredly be known as rape, and he would have been punished.”

“It feels completely different,” he said.

“Yes, I’d imagine it does.  If you ever dream of that night from the perspective of Helga, you might see the encounter with Gryffindor differently as well. Be that as it may, I do not want you to think I condone Slytherin’s actions. He was not a kind man by anyone’s accounting.  In many ways, his treatment of Rowena laid the seeds for his own downfall.”

“What do you mean?”

“Perhaps you will see that for yourself soon.”

The dreams continued nightly, and some were as intensely sexual as his fantasies of girls of his own time.  He did indeed dream of that first night after the battle from Helga’s perspective, and indeed he felt the fear she felt when Gryffindor first came to her.  He felt her rage over their defeat, but also her fascination with a wizard who was so powerful that he nearly single-handedly destroyed fifty Norse wizards.

She admired this handsome man with his luxurious red beard and cold blue eyes.  He stood tall and strong and spoke the civilized languages so very few of her own people spoke.  She spoke the languages because her master taught her. 

When he came to her that night with his breath smelling of mead and his hands on her bosom, she fought with all her strength.  She was not some common whore to be taken by the whims of a drunk.

Yet, even steeped in drink his magic overwhelmed her with its power.  He could perform powerful spells without his wand.  His vision was beautiful to her, as was his strong body.  She fought with fists and feet, but when he overpowered her completely, she gave herself to him wholly.  He had proven his compassion with his oath to her people, and his vision in the description of his goals.  And he had proven his worth by his magic and strength.  And so Helga spread her legs wide and gave her maidenhead to this powerful man, and he took it as his due.  She refused any tears as he tore through her, but after that first mad rush, he was amazingly gentle.  His lips caressed her breast rather than bite or suckle too hard.  His hands held her hips with gentle firmness as he ceased to thrust into her and instead explored her.  And through it all, he never took his eyes off her.  “You are beautiful,” he told her as his motions took on urgent need.  The exploration gave way once more to deep, frantic thrusts.  Helga rocked her legs in time with him, entwining her angles behind his back and pushing him into her. 

Though she herself did not climax, she felt his body shudder within her, and she knew that if any man could bring her pleasure in the future, it would be this man.

From that night on, she slept in his tent.  He did not treat her as a servant or a wench.  He did not even treat her as his woman at first, except for their lovemaking.  He treated her as a valued apprentice.  But every night, he took her.  Oft times he would simply walk into the tent, lift her skirts and take her right there from behind, and she never fought him.  Not after that first time.  And soon enough, she was climaxing as thoroughly as he did.

At his side they cornered a unicorn south of the Strathclyde.  With enchantments Helga had never seen, Gryffindor convinced the beast to loose many silvery strands of hair from its tail.  He then took a length of willow and showed her how to make a wand.  A wand fashioned thus was always keyed to its maker.  The moment it was complete, magic poured out of it and Helga knew she had her new wand.

After weeks of travel, they reached the Valley of the Boars.  It was beautiful to Helga and her people, and they quickly settled into a small camp.  The young boys grew into men, and all found themselves learning the southern wand-magic from the mighty Gryffindor. 

Things were not perfect, of course.  Old resentments died hard, but Gryffindor was so powerful than even with wands the young Norse were unable to best or even properly challenge him.  Still, he taught them.  And they learned, grudgingly at first, but they learned.

When the foundation stones were laid for the castle and Rowena Ravenclaw designed the first wards for Gryffindor to use, Hogsmeade was a living, breathing town, and the dream of Hogwarts had been born.   
\--

\--

On his fifth night at the castle, Harry’s nightly dreams of the founders were interrupted by another, much more disturbing dream.  He dreamed of Susan Bones.

Susan was taller than the other girls with a heavier build.  She was not thick-set at all; rather she appeared more fully developed.  She was a month younger than Hermione, but stood an inch taller and looked nineteen.  She had milky-white skin and warm hazel eyes.  She tended to dip her head to one side when she smiled. She was confident without being arrogant, and loyal to a fault.  She was one of the few witches in Hogwarts who never made fun of Harry either during the Triwizard Turnament, or in the aftermath.

Harry knew from the others that surrounded her that she was loved by her housemates.  He had seen boys with her all the time, though he never heard if she actually dated any of them.  He was sure she would have.  She was very pretty.

It started off with the same wonderfully erotic dream.  He and Susan were making love, but there were differences.  They were not in the Room of Requirement.  They were in a bedroom filled with posters of the Weird Sisters, The Warlock Five and…a muggle poster of an American actor Harry had seen once on television at the Dursleys.

He guessed they were in Susan’s bedroom.  Suddenly she stopped rocking and looked down at Harry.  She was not smiling—she looked scared.  She leaned down on top of him until her pink nipples tickled his own and said, “They’re coming for me, Harry.”

“What?”

“They’re going to kill my aunt and me.  Can’t you feel it?”

And he could.  Through his scar he could suddenly feel murderous intent and terrible anticipation.  He sat up in his darkened room, gasping.

It took him only moments to dress and he was at the gargoyle.  “I need to speak to Dumbledore now.  It’s an emergency!”

\--

\--

“Thank you for letting me visit, Aunt Amelia.”

The head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement gave her niece a long look before she settled down in her comfortable chair with her own cup of tea.  “Well, Susan, I could tell you needed to speak to someone, preferable someone who was not your mother.  And I’m always grateful for a visit.  I understand you had quite a nightmare a few days ago.  Are you all right?”

Susan Bones gave her aunt a smile and sipped her tea.  “I think so,” she said.  “I…you’re right, I needed someone to talk to.  I’m a little confused.”

“Is it about a boy?  You’re mother said you were dreaming about a boy.”

Amelia so thoroughly enjoyed watching Susan blush.  She was such a lovely girl, the color really brought out the lines of her cheeks.  She was going to have to talk to her sister-in-law about getting the girl some better cosmetic charms.

“I dreamed about Harry,” Susan said.

“Harry?  You mean Harry Potter?”  _This was a surprise_.

Susan nodded, and suddenly sobbed.  Amelia put the tea down and moved across the floor to sit on the couch next to her only niece.  “Dear, what is it?”

“It was terrible, Auntie.  It was like I was there.  I watched them kill his cousin.  Lestrange was sitting on the dead boy’s body while she tortured his mother to death, and the Death Eaters kept Harry under the _cruciatus_ the entire time.  And there was nothing I could do about it!”

Amelia held her niece as she cried, but her stare was a thousand yards off.  The details of the attack on the Dursleys was kept under very tight wraps.  Not even that irritating nuisance, Skeeter, was able to get all the details that her niece just recited _from a dream_. 

“Susan, I need to know, dear, is there anything between you and Harry?  Have you had relations with him?”

Susan looked up in obvious confusion.  “Relations?”

“This isn’t Auntie Amelia asking, Susan.  This is Amelia Bones of the DMLE. Have you slept with him?”

Her blush ran all the way down to her shirtline.  “No!” she said.  “I’ve not slept with anybody!”

Amelia sighed.  “That’s good, dear.  I had to ask.  This dream you had, do you know why?  What connection do you have with Harry?”

“He taught the DA this last year at school.”  The sobs faded and Amelia noted the half-smile on the girl’s face as she recalled the previous year. “He was always so nice.  Not just to me, but to everyone.  He really cared.  But everyone thought he had something for Cho Chang.  I knew I would never be pretty enough.  But then on the train ride home, the strangest thing happened.”  She frowned absently.

“What is that, dear?”

“Did I ever tell you about Looney Lovegood?”

“I know Luna, dear.  Her father was an Auror once, years ago.  And her mother worked in the Department of Mysteries before she died.”

Susan nodded.  “Luna asked me to kiss Harry’s foot.”

“What?”

“Not just his foot.  She asked me to kiss his right foot.  And get this—Granger blushed like I’d just pinched her bum.”

“Did you?”

“Auntie!  Of course not.  Hannah started making cracks about Luna and Harry got upset about making fun of her and led us out of the compartment.  He wasn’t mean about it, he just asked us not to be mean to her.  But he was touching my elbow.”

“The one you broke last summer when you fell off your broom?”

Susan nodded.  “When he let go, it didn’t ache any more.  And I had this strange…”  She blushed and stopped talking.

“Go on,” Amelia said.  “I’m not your mother, Susan.  I’ve always cherished the fact that you confide in me.  I’ve never broken your trust, and I never will.  Please, tell me.”

“Well, it’s just that after Hannah and I went back to our cabin, I just had this…I wanted to go back and kiss him.  I mean, I _really_ wanted to go back and kiss him.  When the train got back to London I saw Granger and Lovegood both give him hugs, and Lovegood did kiss him, and I was…”

“Jealous?”

“No.  I mean, I should have been.  That’s just it.  I should have been jealous, but I wasn’t.  I didn’t want to be Luna kissing him.  I wanted to be by Luna kissing him too.  And since then I’ve had…”  She blushed again.  “I’ve been having very naughty dreams.  Until the night they attacked Harry.  That was a nightmare.”

Amelia said nothing at first.  She simply held her niece while staring over the girl’s head.  What she was describing was very much like that first wonderful week Amelia had after she married Edgar.  Even down to the dreams and the strange details she gleaned from the attack on the Dursleys—it sounded as if somehow Susan had formed either a marriage or a betrothal bond to Harry Potter.

But how?

She opened her mouth to ask another question, but stopped when she felt a wave of magic pass through the room.  Susan looked up.  “What was that?”

“The intruder wards,” Amelia said.  She and Susan both stood.  “Get your wand,” she snapped.  “Do you know any defensive spells?”

“Harry taught me the protego charm and the disarming and stunning spells.”

“That’ll do for now,” Amelia said.  She stiffened as she felt another wave of magic, this time much stronger as her protective wards failed.  Those were some of the strongest wards available—for them to fail so quickly spoke eloquently of who it was she was about to meet.

She crouched down with Susan behind her when she heard a gentle rapping on the door.  The knocking came a second time.

“Who’s there?” she yelled.

“Death!” came the gleeful-sounding response.

The door vanished into a cloud of dust.  The wall beside it exploded under the force of multiple blasting charms.  Amelia was pleased to see how quickly Susan erected a protego charm to protect herself from the debris.

The pleasure was short lived.  It wasn’t just Death Eaters.  Voldemort himself stood on the threshold of her home.  “Hello, Madame Bones,” he said politely.  He wore dark wizarding robes and made a show of bowing from the waist.  “This must be your lovely niece.  Fenrir, say hello to the lovely niece.”

One of the unmasked death eaters growled. Amelia felt the blood flee from her face as terror gripped her.  The terror was not for herself, but for Susan.  The animal facing her was none other than Fenrir Grayback, the most vicious werewolf in all of Britain.

“Looks tasty,” the werewolf said.

“So, let’s get down to business, shall we?” Voldemort said.  “We’re going to kill you, Madame. Bones.  We’ll kill the girl eventually too, but to the victor goes the spoils, don’t they say?  We mean to enjoy her spoils beforehand.”

Susan’s eyes were red-rimmed as she backed away.  Amelia grabbed Susan’s arms and tried to dis-apparate, but as expected she could not.  Voldemort shook his head.  “Not polite to try and leave the party so early, is it?  _Crucio!_ ”

Amelia conjured a brick that deflected the worst of the pain spell, though it was so powerful she felt her arm go numb from it.  The other death eaters began throwing spells.  Susan ducked behind the couch and started launching counter-spells with surprising speed and accuracy for a child her age.

It was not enough. A stunning spell caught Susan and threw her bodily away from the couch.  Amelia ducked behind a volley of spell fire until she knelt down before her niece with the strongest shield she could summon.

Suddenly the spells stopped.  Voldemort himself approached.  With a casual flick of his hands, the furniture in front of him tumbled away.  “A valiant effort, Amelia,” Voldemort said.  “Valiant indeed.  I may even let you die quickly.”

He started to speak more when something very strange happened.

Harry Potter appeared with an ear-shattering pop directly behind Amelia and Susan wearing nothing but a pair of flannel pajama bottoms. Voldemort’s surprise was almost as shocking as Potter’s appearance.  What happened next was even more surprising. This fifteen-year-old boy raised his wand and said with a blood-curdling scream, “ _Etre exclu!”_

The power of the spell was itself numbing.  It was a testament to Voldemort’s own power that his shield kept the spell from shattering his body.  Even so, it struck with such force not even the Dark Lord could absorb it all.  With an angry roar he flew bodily back out of the house. 

The other Death Eaters stood in shock, amazed at what a mere boy could do.  That is when Albus Dumbledore calmly walked into the broken room from the back door of the house, accompanied by Rufus Scrimgeour and a dozen aurors.

Outside, Voldemort stood in rage.  “Do you think you can hold off my rage forever, Dumbledore?”

“Perhaps not forever, Tom,” the old wizard said.  “But for tonight, yes.”

“You will pay for this!” the dark wizard declared.  He disappeared with a pop, and the other Death Eaters followed.

“Why didn’t we put up anti-apparation wards!” Scrimgeour barked.

It was Harry, though, who answered.  “You weren’t in the ministry when they fought,” he said.  “If they fought here, we’d all be dead.”

“I do not claim to speak for you, Head Auror,” Dumbledore said, “but for my part, I came here to help a very dear friend.  And Harry came for the same reason.”

Harry dismissed the argument and knelt down beside Susan.  He looked up fearfully at Amelia.  “Is she..?”

“She was stunned,” Amelia said.  The DMLE head studied him not just with an auror’s eye, but the eye of an aunt who very much loved her niece.  She could not deny the overwhelming concern the boy’s face conveyed.  Nor could she deny the fact that this boy, still nearly two months short of his sixteenth birthday, came in person and faced the most powerful wizard in a generation to save them.

“Thank you, Harry,” Amelia said gently.  “Not just for tonight, but for everything you’ve done for her.  She told me about how you trained her, and I saw it here tonight.”

“Does that mean I won’t face a trial of the entire Wizengamut for underage use of magic?” Harry said.  He couldn’t help but grin.

“I think I might be able to overlook it this time around,” Amelia said, also with a tight grin. 

Albus Dumbledore knelt down beside them as aurors started pouring over the house.  “I am so grateful we arrived in time, Amelia,” the old professor said.

“As am I, old friend,” she said.  “How did you know to come?”

She looked as Harry cleared his throat and glanced briefly down at Susan. 

“Yes,” Dumbledore said in confirmation.  “Young Mr. Potter here determined you were in danger.  Mr. Potter, I’m sure we will have words regarding your apparating here without a license.”

“You apparated her by yourself?” Amelia asked.  “There were anti-apparition wards up.  We were stuck here.”

“I believe Mr. Potter broke through them,” Albus said.

“That would explain why it was so loud,” she muttered.  “But how?  That’s not suppose to be possible.”

“Others have done it before,” Dumbledore said.  “But perhaps now is not the right time.  We need to get you to the ministry or to a Fidelius-charmed location.  And Susan—I believe it would be wise for her family to also be placed under Fidelius.”

“I agree,” Amelia said.  She pushed herself to her feet and watched as Harry gently touched Susan’s cheek.  His touch seemed to have the same effect as an _enervate_. Susan came awake with a terrified gasp, her hands flailing about. bHarry caught one and she froze as she stared up at him.

Amelia felt a pang in her chest as she watched the emotions flit across her niece’s face.  Terror, confusion, hope and finally absolute trust.  She sat up and grasped at the boy in a desperate hug even as she started sobbing.  “You came!” she said into his shoulder.

Amelia backed away a step and looked to Dumbledore.  “What is happening with Mr. Potter?” she asked gravely. 

“A fair question,” Dumbledore said.  “Perhaps, rather than the ministry, you should accompany us to Hogwarts.  Your position on the Wizengamot as well as head of the DMLE will be of great value to us, if what I believe is true will actually come to pass.”

“And Susan?”

“Alas, since it affects her, I believe she should come as well.”

“If nothing else, she would be at a secured location,” Amelia muttered.  “Okay, let’s go.”

Dumbledore turned to Harry.  “Harry, do you remember how you came here?”

Harry nodded.  “I can take us all back.”

Amelia blanched.  “I’ll be the first to admit great admiration for you, Mr. Potter, but I’m not comfortable with being side-along apparated by a teenager who does not even have his license.”

“It won’t be just me,” Harry assured her. He stood, still with Susan in his arms, and took both Dumbledore’s and Amelia’s hands in his left one.  She felt the stomach-twisting, scrunching sensation of dis-apparation, and a moment later the four of them popped into existence in the office of the headmaster at Hogwarts.

“What is happening here?” Amelia demanded.  “I know for a fact that apparition is not possible through the Hogwarts wards.  Not even Voldemort could do that!”

“Somehow, Mr. Potter, and Mr. Potter alone, has become keyed to the wards.”

“How is that even possible?”

“I don’t know, I have not thought to ask.”

“Ask who?”

“Hogwarts, of course.”

Amelia blinked.  “Albus, I’ve had a very bad night.  Do not play games with me.”

“Please, Amelia, sit down.  Harry, you and Susan should sit as well.”

Harry sat down, and Amelia bit her lip when Susan sat on his lap without even a moment of hesitation.  To the boy’s credit, he looked very embarrassed, but Susan was clinging to him like a leech. 

“Some interesting information regarding Mr. Potter’s lineage has recently come to light,” Albus said as he stepped around his desk.  “Would you like some tea?”

“I would like some answers,” Amelia snapped.

“Just so,” the old wizard agreed.  “It appears that Mr. Potter, aside from all other responsibilities and burdens, is also the heir of the Four Founders.”

“That’s impossible.”

“You can verify this with Gringotts, Amelia.  The Founder’s vaults have been restored magically, per their first true contact.  Harry is a descendent of Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff,  Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin.  Hogwarts herself has bonded with him in accordance with the wishes of her creators.  Thus he is keyed to the wards more thoroughly than myself.  By virtue of this bonding, he has experienced other benefits.  His power, as you saw tonight, has been significantly boosted.  I have also been giving him personal training.  You’ll be interested to know he scored better than 50 on the power scale.”

Amelia turned and stared back at Harry.  It appeared that Susan was actually sleeping now.  He was looking down at her with a look of surprise and…love?

“Merlin’s beard,” she whispered.  “How can this be possible?”

“Dare I say magic?” Albus said.  “The founders were the most powerful magical beings since Merlin himself.  They created many of the magics we use to this very day, even a thousand years later.  They placed charms on their own children to ensure the survival of their lines.  The sons of Godric bore the last name Gryffindor, while the daughters of Helga bore the last name Hufflepuff.  The magical legacy they left weakened through the ages as their separate lines died out, but it never went away entirely.  Now, having converged for the first time, they have been strengthened like never before.  In the eyes of this castle, the magic of the founders, and the laws of the Goblins, Harry Potter is five separate people.  He is the Harry Potter we all know and admire.  He is also Lord Gryffindor, Lord Ravenclaw, Lord Hufflepuff and Lord Slytherin, with all rights and privileges thereto.   If you were to examine the seats of the Wizengamut, I’m sure you would find all five seats restored.”

Amelia shook her head.  “Harry, how do you feel about this?”

“A little overwhelmed,” Harry said.  “Confused.  But very happy.”

“And what about my niece?”

She watched the blush ignite in his cheeks and flare down his neck.  “Er…I’m not entirely sure,” he said.  “But I think…that may be part of why I’m so happy.  I’ve been a bit of a mess, truth be told.”

Exactly like Susan, Amelia realized.  “Do you care for her?”

“Well, yes.  I suppose I do. No…I know I do.  A great deal.”

“And you want her to kiss your foot, I understand?”

He choked a little.  Susan murmured something in her sleep and snuggled up to him. 

“Let me guess, Harry,” Dumbledore said.  “Miss Lovegood mentioned that to her?  I somehow find it difficult to envision you asking a girl to kiss your foot, and I know Miss Granger certainly would not have done so.”

Harry quickly nodded.

“And that is where your Hufflepuff tattoo is located, is it not?”

“Tattoo?” Amelia said.

Harry held up his right hand, and she saw the Gryffindor lion crest on it.  “Got one for each house,” he admitted.  “After Hogwarts and I bonded.”

Something about the way he said the last statement made Amelia suspicious, but she chose not to pursue it.  “So you wanted her to kiss your tattoo?”

“Luna did,” Harry said.

“Why?”

“I suspect, Amelia,” Dumbledore said, “that it would have the magical effect of a betrothal bond.  Those tattoos appeared on Mr. Potter magically.  Again, as a part of his unique heritage.”

“And Luna kissed his hand?”

Harry nodded.  “She kissed the Ravenclaw tattoo.  It was pretty intense.  Then she talked Hermione into kissing the Gryffindor hand.”

Her eyes widened and she turned to stare at the headmaster.  “Do you mean to tell me you are advocating polygamy among teen-agers?”

“I am advocating nothing,” Dumbledore said.  “Ask Susan how she feels.  For that matter, I suspect Miss Granger and Miss Lovegood would feel the same.  All of them are being compelled by something greater than themselves.  And legally speaking, Harry is five separate individuals.”

Amelia shot to her feet and stared pacing.  “This is unbelievable!  Who is the fourth?”

“Daphne Greengrass,” Harry said.

“And how did you pick these girls?  I know you and Granger have always been close.  But why Lovegood?  Why the only child of my only husband’s only brother?”

“Hogwarts showed me when we bonded,” Harry said.  “Madam Bones… I’m really sorry.  I didn’t mean for this to happen.  I really didn’t.  I wouldn’t hurt Susan for anything.  I’d sooner cut off my own hand like Pettigrew did than hurt her.  I’ll stay away from her if that’s what you want.”

The reference to Pettigrew hit home.  The ministry’s treatment of Harry and even before that of the boy’s godfather still infuriated her.  More than that, though was that she could hear his sincerity.  She could see it in his face.

“I don’t believe that would be wise,” Dumbledore said.  “They were chosen for a reason.  They represent the best qualities of their House.”

She could see it in the tender way he held Susan.  “Do these other girls know?”

“Luna knows,” Harry said with certainty.  “She seems to know everything.  Hermione will figure it out if she hasn’t already.  She’s the smartest person I’ve ever met.  Haven’t spoken to Daphne yet.  I’m not sure about her at all.  I’m not sure about any of this.  The only girlfriend I ever had was a complete disaster.”

“Well evidently fate is trying to help you make up for lost time,” Amelia muttered.  She looked back at Dumbledore.  “The Wizangamut is not going to go for this.”

“Magical marriage bonds are out of their control, other than to record.  If they formally bond, Amelia, there will be nothing left for us to do but acknowledge it.  And with Gringotts already assigning Harry the four founder vaults, the Wizengamot would be hard pressed to deny him.”

“Can I ask something?” Harry said.

The two adults turned and stared.

Harry searched for words.  “This is my fight,” he began.  “The prophecy says it has to be me.  But I’ve never been alone.  I had help.  I want…er, I would like it, if the underage restrictions could be lifted for me, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Nevile Longbottom and Susan here.  We’re all in danger.  And we’re all involved in the fight.”

Amelia said down, stunned at the request.  “Harry, you’re still a child.”

“I killed one of the men that attacked my house,” he said coldly.  “I had bits of my uncle’s head on my chest when I got away.  I watched them murder my cousin and torture my aunt for almost an hour.  Under the _cruciatus_. I’m young, and I know I don’t know everything.  But Madame Bones, do you really think I’m still a child?”

“I agree with Harry, Amelia,” Dumbledore said.  “Moreover, I’m going to need him.  We are all going to need him.   In addition to removing his trace and the restrictions, I would also recommend giving him an apparition license.  You learned that from who, Harry?”

“Rowena,” Harry said. 

“Yes,” Dumbledore said.  “Madame Ravenclaw was the first to successful apparate, wasn’t she?  See, Amelia, he had the best of teachers.  It may even be advisable to deputize him and his friends to the DMLE. That will provide them some legal protections, while allowing your department to benefit from any successes Harry experiences, such as saving your life this evening.”

“You were there,” Amelia pointed out.

“Harry arrived a full minute before I did,” Dumbledore said.  “Moreover, I did not even raise my wand.  It was Harry who saved you.”

She nodded.  “You know Fudge is on his way out.”

Dumbledore smiled broadly.  “It was not coincidental that Voldemort targeted you, Amelia.”

“If I step into that office, will you and your students work with me?”

From the chair, Harry suddenly smiled such a brilliantly happy smile it made the DMLE head catch her breath.  “Do you think Susan would let it be any other way?”

 


	7. In Which The Wizengamot Gets Boned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the author drives a bad pun deep, deep into the ground.

Susan Bones woke up feeling calmer and more comfortable than she had ever felt in her life.  She remembered in every detail the events of the previous night, and knew the terror of that evening hovered just on the edge of her mind.

But she also remembered how incredibly safe and peaceful she felt, sitting in Harry’s lap.

Hannah would be scandalized.  In fact, she herself should have been embarrassed to just plop herself down on a strange boy’s lap.  She wasn’t even sure what came over her.  But the moment she felt his arms around her, this warm, floating sense of peace came over her, and she knew she would not move again.

Although obviously she did, since she was in her bed at home. 

The door cracked open, and she smiled as her mother stepped in.  “Hello, dear,” Stella Bones said.  She came and sat on the edge of the bed, and remained there as her daughter sat up and hugged her.

“Are you okay?” Stella asked.

“I’m okay,” Susan assured her.  “Better than okay.  I feel good.  I know I shouldn’t, but…”

“Harry Potter carried you home last night,” Stella said.  “I don’t believe I have ever been as scared as I was when I heard about the attack on Amelia.  But there he came, holding you like a baby in his arms.  Quite strong he is, for a boy his size.”

“He’s very strong,” Susan said absently.  “He blasted Voldemort right out of Aunt Amelia’s house.  Apparated right through the wards.  Then apparated all of us back to Hogwarts.  I don’t remember much after that, but I do remember this: he saved my life.”

Stella carefully pulled a strand of blonde hair over her only child’s ear.  “He obviously cares for you, I could see that last night.”

Susan leaned forward and buried her face in her mother’s shoulder.  “I love him,” she whispered into the fabric.  “I love him so much it hurts.  He saved my life.”

“Dear, I know that he did a wonderful thing for you, but that alone isn’t…”

“Even before then.  I went to visit Auntie because of Harry.  Because of the dreams I was having.  I saw the attack on his house, Mother.  I saw it like I was there.  And Harry somehow knew I was in danger.  I love him.”

“I know dear,” Stella finally said as he cradled her daughter.   “I know.”

A short time later, as Susan relaxed in a very warm bath, Stella Bones walked down the stairs of their modest home until she arrived in their den.  Her husband Albert sat on the edge of a muggle-style sofa with a cup of steaming coffee in his hand.  Standing near the window was his sister Amelia.

Between them stood Albus Dumbledore.

“She said she loves him,” Stella announced.  “She has all the classic signs of a betrothal-bond infatuation.”  She hugged herself.  “She’s so young.”

Albert chuckled.  “I seem to remember a certain older brother of mine proposing to a comely young witch who at the time was only seventeen.”

“I was legally an adult, however,” Amelia said.

“He proposed the day after your birthday,” Albert pointed out.  “Susan will be seventeen in October.  And she’s over the age of consent.”

“Albertus Installicus Bones, are you actually advocating our sixteen-year-old daughter be married?”

“I’m saying that I am not opposed to our sixteen-year-old daughter marrying a boy she seems to love, and who obviously cares for her, who just so happens to be Lord Hufflepuff.  Our grandchildren would be heirs of one of the most powerful and wealthy families in the world.”

“This isn’t about money!” Stella said.

“It is about magic,” Dumbledore said quietly.  This had the effect of cutting off their conversations.  “I communed with Hogwarts herself, Mrs. Bones.  It was an extraordinary experience.  Harry truly is the heir of the founders.  And he is being compelled just as thoroughly as Susan.  Nor is she alone.  It is an interesting position to be in, I’m sure.  But you met him last night.  Amelia had a long talk with him as well.  I ask you—do you think that the Harry Potter you met last night would ever be anything but honorable and loving to your daughter?”

“One talk isn’t enough to know that,” Stella said.

“Yes it is,” Amelia said firmly.  She walked across to her sister-in-law.  “Stella, early this morning I confirmed the Founders vaults have been reactivated.  The Wizengamot roles expanded for the Lords of the Four Houses.  This is real.  Somehow, it is real.  But from the time I first met Harry, defending himself against Fudge’s ridiculous charges because he used magic to save his cousin, to our discussion last night, I tell you I have nothing but the very highest esteem for that young man.  And Susan really did have feelings for him before this started.  I can tell you as surely as I love you all, that Harry would never knowingly hurt her.”

“You’re in support of this, then?” Stella asked, as if betrayed.  “You’re talking about polygamy!  My daughter sharing a man with three other women!  Girls, really.”

“I’m not happy about that part of  it,” Amelia admitted.  “But I don’t think we can deny the facts any longer.  And…”  She smiled as she stepped forward and placed an arm around Stella’s shoulders.  “If I remember correctly, a certain brother in law of mine did not wait very long after you were legally an adult to propose to you either.  And I happen to know you were not legal when you consummated your relationship.”

Stella blushed.  “How did you…”

“The younger brother had to confess to the elder.  And Edgar couldn’t keep a secret about family if his life depended on it.  Remember what it was like at her age.  She is young, Stella, but she is not a girl.  She is a beautiful young woman, and she is loved by a handsome young man.  And I believe that whatever other relationships Harry may be compelled to be a part of, he will truly and sincerely care for her and give her all the love we both know she deserves.”

“But she’ll be in danger,” Stella said.

“I’m likely to be the next minister of magic,” Amelia pointed out.  “The impeachment hearing is this afternoon, and the house will come to a vote on Fudge’s replacement immediately after.  You’re already in danger, just because of me.  Wouldn’t you rather she be with the one man fated to stand against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?”

Stella stumbled to the couch and sat beside her husband.  Just then, Susan came down the stairs.  She wore a floral sundress.  Her hair hung straight about her shoulders.  Stella smiled at her daughter, but could not hide her tears.  Susan looked so grown up.

“What is it?” Susan asked.  “Mom, why are you crying?”

It was her father who stood up and stepped to her.  “We’ve been talking about you and Harry,” he said.

Susan went very still and her eyes widened.  “You can’t stop me,” she whispered weakly, terrified not just of the words leaving her mouth, but of the intensity of the feeling behind them.

“I know,” he said.  Albert pulled her into a hug.  “We’ve decided, dear.  Whatever you decide to do, we will support you.  Even if that involves a contract.”

It took a moment for the fear to subside enough for Susan to realize what he was saying.  “Thank you, Daddy,” she said as the tears welled in her eyes.

\--

\--

“It’s going to be a close vote,” Amelia said once she was back in her office.  “Even with the sympathy factor, Rufus has a solid following.”

“Mr. Scrimgauer isn’t well known for his subtly,” Dumbledore said.  “Let me ask you, Amelia, would the addition of four more votes aid you in your campaign?”

“Oh no, Albus.  Marrying the boy off is one thing, but there is absolutely no precedent to allow for a minor to vote in Wizengamot affairs.”

“A legal minor, no.  But perhaps you’re aware of Lord Hastlebush in the last century, who assumed his house seat in the Wizengamot at age fifteen when his disability of minority was removed by a majority vote of the Wizengamot.”

“Do you think they would willingly remove Potter’s minority status only to see him be the swing vote for the next minister?”

“How, pray tell, would they know?” Dumbledore asked slyly.  “I should think after the horrendous treatment Harry received at the hands of the previous administration, and the fact that his guardians were recently brutally murdered, that the Wizengamot would grant this one small boon.  We don’t necessarily have to inform them of his magical status until after his legal status is determined.”

Amelia couldn’t help the grin spreading across her face.  “Albus, it was a loss to the whole nation that you never became minister.”

“Madame, I have never felt myself worthy of that position, and I have not changed my mind yet.  However, I am not above aiding those who are worthy of achieving it.  I shall enter his emancipation as new business before the vote.  I had wanted to keep his status as the heir secret for a while longer, but if marriage contracts come in registered to Harry Potter, Lord Gryffindor, or Harry Potter, Lord Hufflepuff, I believe any attempt at secrecy would be moot.”

“Agreed,” Amelia said.  “I’ll start spreading the word.  The members know he saved my life last night.  They know I feel indebted to him.”

“Indeed.  I shall fetch Mr. Potter.  I believe he is at Gringott’s now taking care of the Black Estate.  I shall see you soon.  I would suggest a nap might be in order.  You look very tired.”

At 2 p.m. that afternoon, the newly reinstated Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot assumed his place at the head of the chamber while Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge stood with chin held high before the legislative body of the magical government. 

The impeachment vote was nearly unanimous, with the exceptions of Madame Umbridge and Lord Thomas Nott.  Fudge seemed to visibly wilt under the show of hands. 

“Cornelius Fudge,” Dumbledore said, “by order of this body you are hereby removed as Minister of Magic, with our deepest gratitude for the many years of service you have given to the Ministry of Magic.  Now, our next item of business is one many of you may be familiar with.  Mr. Harry Potter has formally requested that for his disability of minority be removed.  Be it known that because of my relationship as Mr. Potter’s headmaster, and as his friend, I will be abstaining from this vote.  Mr. Potter, please approach.”

Unlike Harry’s last hearing before the Wizengamot, this one was public.  As Harry stood and walked down the narrow stairs to the open area in front of the Wizengamot stands, the public stands erupted in a burst of noise that was quickly put down by Dumbledore’s gavel.

“Harry, who is to speak for you?”

Harry lifted his chin.  “If I am to be treated like an adult, sir, then I must take the responsibility of an adult.  With your permission, I will speak for myself.”

In the stands, Amelia hid a smile.  He said it exactly as she had coached.

“Very well, Mr. Potter, your statement.”

“Thank you, Chief Warlock,” Harry said.  The young man made a show of looking around the Wizengamot until he locked eyes with Delores Umbridge.  “This last year has been difficult for me.  Because of policies instituted by the ministry of magic, I found myself having to teach a required subject at Hogwarts while being daily tortured by a blood quill.  I started the year by being attacked by dementors, and then being placed on trial by this very body for defending myself and my cousin.  A cousin I watched murdered not a week ago.  There is no question that I am a target for dark forces both within the Ministry, and without.  I have been physically and mentally harmed by both in equal measure.  I come before you today asking for nothing more than the basic right to defend my life and my honor with the same vigor as an adult.  To make choices for myself that others have made so poorly.  I am asking to be given the freedom to act on the responsibility that fate has already delivered to me.  If am to face your dark wizard, then I ask this body to let me face him as a man, and not a boy.  Thank you for your time.”

“Thank you, Mr. Potter.  Do any members of this body wish to address the issue?”

“Ahem.”

Harry closed his eyes.  Amelia leaned across and rolled hers.  Delores Umbridge stood up, walked down the steps with tiny, mincing steps, and stopped until she faced the body.  “Harry Potter asks to be treated like an adult.  I say let us do that very thing.  Let us make him face responsibility for his actions.  Mr. Potter repeatedly violated ministry edicts and rules.  He broke into the Ministry of Magic and with his little friends engaged in repeated acts of illegal underage magic.”

Harry opened his mouth, but Albus subtly shook his head.  Harry glanced over at Amelia, who did the same.  Biting his tongue, he kept his mouth shut.

“Mr. Potter and his friends,” Umbridge continued, “especially Miss Granger, placed my very life in danger while viciously attacking their fellow students.  If he wishes to be an adult, then I fully support such an action, so that he may then go to Azkaban like any adult who has committed such a list of crimes!”

“Very eloquently spoken,” Dumbledore said dryly.  “Would anyone like to respond?”

Amelia stood up. Umbridge stared up at her with a smile. 

“Delores,” Amelia said, “if the ministry of magic were to declare pink illegal, would you cease wearing it and discard any pink items in your possession?”

“Such a question is ludicrous.  Why would the ministry do such a thing?”

“Why would the ministry declare student organizations at Hogwarts illegal?” Amelia bit back.  “Why would the ministry eliminate the practical teaching of Defense Against the Dark Arts?  Why would a then senior undersecretary of magic release two dementors on a fifteen-year-old boy?  Or use veritaserum on students!  Why would a ministry official use the _cruciatus_ curse on a child!”

The whole Wizengamot began muttering at the list of charges.  “Fudge has protected you from many of these charges, Madame Umbridge, but his protection is over.  Regardless of the outcome of Mr. Potter’s request today, justice will be had, and those responsible for crimes will be made to pay. Where you list crimes on Mr. Potter’s part, I list heroism I have not seen since the first war.  I saw a young man who cared so very deeply for his fellow students that he risked the wrath of a tyrannical monster to ensure they had some chance to pass OWLs.  And pass they did—the only students at Hogwarts who passed their owls in DADA the year Madame Umbridge taught it were those under Harry’s tutelage.  He did this, mind you, while being tortured by Madame Umbridge with a blood quill!”

This caused more uproar, and for the first time Umbridge’s sickly-sweet smile began to crack.

“I fully support Mr. Potter’s request, and many of you know why.  If I look exhausted, it is because last night Voldemort himself attacked my home and threatened both myself and my niece.  It was not Albus Dumbledore who saved my life!  It was Harry Potter, who apparated through an anti-apparation ward and blasted Voldemort out of my house with a single hex!”

The room exploded.  Albus continued pounding his gavel, but for the moment order was lost.  Harry looked around the room as people shouted questions at him.  Finally, he locked his eyes on Albus Dumbledore and practiced what little occlumency he had.

Finally, the ruckus died down.  Amelia continued.  “As the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, today I issued an underage use of magic exemption to Mr. Potter and his friends.  And based on my personal observations, I have given him his apparition license.  By any practical measure, from his actions to his skills, he has proven in my mind to be an adult wizard of remarkable character.  That, Lords and Ladies, is why I urge you to approve his request.”

She sat down, and the whole chamber erupted in applause. Umbridge very quietly walked back to her place in the stands.  Harry looked around the room, blushing as bright as a rose even as he smiled. 

“Do we have a move to vote?”

“I so move,” a voice called.

“I second,” another said.

“All those in favor of the emancipation of Harry Potter raise your hands.”

Almost all the hands lifted up.  Harry’s shoulders dropped with relief.

“All those opposed.”

Umbridge started to raise her hand, and then dropped it.

“Harry Potter, by order of this august body you are hereby declared an adult wizard, with all the privileges and duties thereof.  Are you ready to assume those duties?”

Harry straightened.  “I am, sir.”

“Very well.”  Albus did not bother to hide his smile.  “Lords and Ladies, you will please note that four additional names were listed on the rolls this morning.  I have been receiving many questions regarding those names.  It is now time to seat the newest voting members of the Wizengamot.  Harry Potter, Lord Potter, please step forward.”

The audience watched enthralled.  Harry stepped forward.  “Lord Potter, do you swear on your magic to full your duties to this body for the greater good of wizarding Britain?”

“I, Harry Potter, Lord Potter, do so swear.”  Magic spread through the hall under the magical oath.

“Thank you.  Harry Potter, Lord Gryffindor, please step forward.”

“What?”  “What is this?”  “Albus, what are you doing?”

The questions abounded.  Harry ignored them as the oath was repeated. “I, Harry Potter, Lord Gryffindor, do so sweat.”

The magical wave that swept through the room was so powerful one of the older ladies in the public stands actually fainted.  Members of the Wizengamot fell quite, since only the actual Lord Gryffindor could have made such an oath.

It was not over.  “Harry Potter, Lord Ravenclaw, step forward.”

“Harry Potter, Lord Hufflepuff, step forward.”

“Harry Potter, Lord Slytherin, step forward.”

When the last oath was sworn, the whole chamber was so quiet Harry could hear the people in the back row breathing.  Dumbledore stood.  “For the sake of convenience, we shall refer you a Lord Hogwarts, a title to which you are entitled as the Heir of the Four Founders.”

It was this last pronouncement that tipped the room into pure chaos.  Wizengamot members were shouting as loudly as the public watchers.  At Dumbledore’s direction, Harry climbed the stairs into the Wizengamot and sat down in a narrow space reserved for him.  He looked profoundly out of place in his muggle suit, until with a flick of his wrist Dumbledore transfigured Harry’s clothes into the formal Wizengamot robes of state.

The chief warlock returned to his position and started rapping his gavel.  When that failed, he roared, “Quiet!”

His magic flared with the sound of his voice, silencing all those in the room.  “Lords and Ladies, it is now approaching four in the afternoon, and one vital piece of business remains.  If any of you doubt Lord Potter’s credentials, please feel free to contact Gringotts Bank, where they can affirm that their First Contract has been reactivated, the Founding vaults have become active, and that Lord Hogwarts is the sole owner of those accounts.  He is the deemed heir of the Four Founders by blood and magic.”

Again, utter silence.  “Now, our last piece of business is one of vital interest and importance.  The election of a new Minister of Magic.  Two names have been proposed, both of whom are worthy for our consideration.  Rufus Scrimgauer, current Head Auror, and Amelia Bones, department head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Rufus’s immediate supervisor.  Again, in this matter I will not vote.”

Several members of the Wizengamot spoke for either party, and several spoke against.  Harry watched the discussion with interest.  It really was split evenly.

Finally, after the last speakers left the floor and returned to his seat, Harry raised his hand.  Albus raised an eye-brow—Harry speaking was not what they hard rehearsed.  “Lord Hogwarts.”

Harry nervously stood and walked down the steps until he once more stood before the assembled body.  “I am the youngest person here, so I hope you will forgive me for wanting to speak.  Most of you know that I and the ministry do not necessarily get along.”

There were actually a few chuckles among the Wizengamot and Harry felt a little cheered.  “All I want to say is this:  I don’t know Mr. Scrimgauer.  I’ve heard he is a very good auror, and we need good aurors in the field.  But I do know Amelia Bones.  She spoke for me the last time I was here, and since then I’ve come to know her as a strong, fair person.  I do not know Mr. Scrimgauer, and so I cannot trust him.  But I know Amelia Bones, and I would trust her with my life.  If she is elected as Minister, she will have my undivided support both as a member of this august body, and as someone whom fate has placed on the front line of this new war.”  He cleared his throat.  “Err, thank you.”

He ducked his head and climbed back into the stands.

“A more eloquent statement I have yet to hear,” Dumbledore said.  “Thank you, Lord Hogwarts.  Are there any more speakers?  No?  Then do we have a move to vote?”

“I so move,” a voice called.

“Seconded.”

“Very well.  Because of the historic nature of the vote, we will vote by roll.”  Dumbledore began reading from the Wizangamot roll.  In the air before them, a chart flamed into existence recording the votes for each.

Just as Amelia predicted, the votes remained painfully close.  There was only a two vote difference, and Scrimgauer was ahead.  Until, “Lord Potter, how do you vote?”

“Bones.”

“Lord Gryffindor, how do you vote?”

“Bones.”

It was if a light had gone on across both the Wizengamot and the public.  Voices started to rise, both in celebration and anger.  Dumbledore read on.

“Lord Ravenclaw, how do you vote?”

“Bones.”

“Lord Hufflepuff, how do you vote?”

“Bones.”

“Lord Slytherin, how do you vote?”

“Bones.”

“By a vote of sixty-three to sixty, Amelia Bones you are hereby elected as the new Minister of Magic.”

He had to shout over the commotion from the hall around him.  The Wizengamot was not entirely happy with the realization that they had been completely, and thoroughly, boned. 

 


	8. In Which Harry Discovers The Grass Really Is Greener

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wish someone had told me how bad I was at puns.

Antonius Elphias Michael Greengrass let the following day’s Daily Prophet fall to his lap and stared into space with a blank expression. 

His wife sat across the room, listening to the Wizarding Wireless while reading _Witch’s Weekly_.  Their house elf was away preparing their meal.  “Delphia?”

“Yes, dear,” his wife said without looking up.

“Didn’t Daphne say she knew Harry Potter?”

She looked up, surprised.  “Harry Potter?  She’s seen him, but they are in different houses so I’m not sure how much they interact.  She is Slytherin, after all.  I’m not sure she would wish to discuss, it, however.”

“Why is that?”

“She’s been acting peculiar all week.  In fact, since she got back.”

“How so?”

“She cried when Botty made her a cake to welcome her back home.  You were at work, I believe.”

“Daphne, our daughter, cried because of a cake?”

“She has been very emotional lately.  I asked her to stay in her room or in the gardens until she had better control of herself.”

 _Naturally_.  “Thank you, Delphia.”  He left his wife reading and went looking for the elder of his two daughters.  She was not in her room, so he went looking in the gardens.

The Greengrass family was pureblood and ancient, though never truly wealthy.  It was this lack of wealth that kept Antonius off the Wizengamot.  It also placed him in a unique position for a dark family.  For though they were not powerful, they practiced many of the old purebood traditions that those such as Albus Dumbledore considered dark.  Animal sacrifice on the major pagan holidays, the worshiping of the dark magical entities and spirits. Sex magic during the solstices.  He was proud of his heritage and bristled at the so called “light” side for condemning it.  Even his marriage was arranged in accordance to the old ways.

He lacked the money or resources to be a target of the Dark Lord, but lacked the power to be a sufficient threat to be courted by the Light.  And so he and his family stayed quietly neutral in all things.

Once he was outside, he finally caught a brief hint of voices coming from the grove of trees on the edge of their modest property.  He folded the paper under his arms and strode across the grass until he heard his daughters speaking.

“…know what’s wrong with me.”

Making a quick decision, Antonius disillusioned himself and moved closer.

Daphne and her younger sister Astoria were sitting cross-legged under their favorite tree, so close their knees touched.   It was a common sight.  Antonius knew he was not a warm father, and knew that his wife was a distant and even cold mother.  It was, he knew, where Daphne gained her aloof manner.

The only person she ever showed emotion to was her younger sister, and at the moment she was showing it in great bouts of tears.

Astoria’s brown hair was cut in a short bob as opposed to Daphne’s long, raven-black locks.  She held her sister as Daphne cried.  “You don’t know why it’s been like this?” Astoria asked.  She was in her second year at Hogwarts.

Daphne shook her head.  “It just hit me one day.  It was a day or two after Potter came back from the ministry.  I was just eating my dinner and I saw him sitting there with his friends, and it hit me like…like someone had hit me.  And I’ve been this blubbering wreck ever since.”

“You really like Harry Potter?”

Antonius froze.  He tried his best to figure out his own feelings regarding this revelation.  Dismay, for one.  Potter was unabashedly from the Light.  But if the article in the paper was to be believed, he was also the heir of Salazar Slytherin himself. Daphne had told him Potter was a parslemouth. 

He started to turn away when he heard Daphne said, “Not just like, Astoria.  I’m having dreams.  Those nightmares that woke me up—I read about it later in the paper.  I was _there_.  I was with Harry when he watched those muggle guardians of his die.  I _felt_ the _cruciatus_.  It was the worst thing I’ve ever been through, even worse than when Draco let Goyle try and rape me.”

Antonius’s stomach churned.  There was too much in those words for him to process, and so he turned and ran back to the house.  That his daughter was already so close to Potter that she experienced his pain in a dream was troublesome.  But that Malfoy’s son was a party to the attempted rape of his little girl?

He walked stiffly into his house and threw the paper onto Delphi’s lap.  “What is this, dear?” she asked, obviously a little irritated at the interruption.  She did not even look at the headlines on the paper.

“I am going to draft a marriage contract,” he said.  “For Daphne.”

“But dear, she’s only sixteen.  She won’t reach her majority until next Winter Solstice.”

“She is of the age of consent,” he said. 

His wife looked suddenly pale.  “Are you going to give her to the Dark Lord, then?”

“No, the exact opposite.  I’m going to offer her contract to Lord Slytherin himself.”

“Lord Slytherin?  Don’t be silly, dear…”

“Read the paper, woman!” Antonius snarled, still too upset by his daughter’s revelations to speak calmly.  With that, he moved to his study to begin drafting the contract.

\--

\--

Hermione was done crying.  She stood in silence while the wind teased her hair.  A touch of soot darkened one cheek.

Luna stood beside her silently holding her hand.  On the other side stood Tonks.  Remus stood behind keeping close watch on all three of them.

Before them stood the burned out shell of a house cordoned off with yellow muggle police tape.  “At least they weren’t there,” Tonks said.  It was the second time that afternoon she had said that.

“They would have been,” Hermione said.  “It could have been any of us.”

“We’ve placed the Longbottom Estate and the Burrow under the Fidelius charm,” Remus pointed out.  “And Luna is safe with us.  It won’t happen again.”

“Tell that to Emmaline Vance,” Hermione whispered.  “Tell that to all those people in the West Country who died because of the giants.”

She took a long shuddering breath, and then turned to Tonks.  “I want to see Harry.”

“Me too, please,” Luna chimed in.

Tonks looked to Remus, who nodded.  “I think that’s a good idea,” the former professor said. “In fact, you should stay there with Harry for the remainder of the summer.  We might even consider having Ron and Ginny join you.”

“Ron is not happy with me.”

“He’d be a lot less happy dead,” Tonks muttered.

Hermione merely nodded.  “As long as we get to see Harry.”

Tonks gathered Luna, and Remus gathered Hermione, and with a pair of pops the four of them were gone.  They reappeared moments later in Hogsmeade village.

The village was strangely deserted, save for a few aurors making rounds.  The magical officers spotted the four of them and merely nodded as they started walking to the castle.  They cleared the forest and the sparkling valley stretched out before them, dominated by the deep, peaceful lake.

However, as they approached they saw a bright flash of light.  “Something’s wrong!” Hermione said.  She broke into a sprint, and the other three scrambled after her as she ran toward the edge of the lake.  As she got closer, she realized it was a wizarding duel.  Huge billows of flame seared the air around the combatants, followed by waves of water that transfigured into spears of ice.  The ground erupted around them, turning molten and then into glass.  She slowed when she realized the sheer, numbing power being exchanged between the two. 

She slowed even further when she realized it was Harry and Dumbledore.

Behind her, Luna, Tonks and Lupin finally arrived.  It was Tonks that broke the silence.  “Merlin’s bloody balls,” she gasped.

The firewhips and crackles of lightning died abruptly.  Harry turned around, his face dripping with sweat.  His eyes alit on Hermione, and she felt almost betrayed by the way her heart skipped in happiness.  Beside her, she both heard and felt Luna suffer the same reaction. 

Perhaps, Hermione thought as Luna darted off toward Harry with a squeal of delight, suffer was not the right term for what her odd friend felt.  Hermione lifted her chin and followed at a more sedate and controlled pace.  She was not some foolish young girl.

Of course, neither was Luna.  However…the blonde launched herself into the air like a missile into Harry’s arms.  He had no choice but to catch her in a swing.  She squealed again with such innocent, childish joy that Hermione could not completely hide her smile.

Even when Luna locked her lips with Harry’s in an intense and very adult kiss, Hermione could not quite summon the jealously she should have felt.  “Damn compulsion,” she muttered.

The kiss parted, and she was pleased to see Harry’s cheeks flushed and his lips parted from the memory of that.  “What was that for?” he asked.

“I wanted to get one in before Hermione reached you,” Luna said.  “I read about Susan.  Has she kissed your foot yet?”

“Not yet,” Harry said.  He managed to tear his eyes from Luna and looked at Hermione.  “Hi,” he said simply.

She stopped a few feet away from him.  “I’m very upset,” Hermione said. 

He frowned with worry, then realization hit and he nodded.  “It’s pretty odd.”

“I feel like I’ve been dosed with a love potion.  Like I’m a bloody slave to this compulsion!  I hate it.  I really liked Ron.  And now he won’t even talk to me.  And Ginny—she fancied you, Harry.  But she sees all us reasonable girls—and Luna, of course—falling head over heals for you and she doesn’t have any hope at all.  It’s not right, Harry Potter.  It’s not right.”

Harry squeezed Luna’s hand and smiled down at her for a moment.  Luna smiled back with complete acceptance, and then stepped back.  Harry turned back to the stormy, angry expression on Hermione’s face.  She did not move as he walked to her. 

“It’s not right,” he agreed.  “I didn’t ask for any of this.  But I…   Hermione, did you know you were the very first person to ever hug me?  And during the TriWizard Tournament, when even Ron thought I was doing something wrong, you came to me and let me know you believed in me.  That meant so much to me.” 

He reached up and took her shoulders in his hands.  She squeezed her eyes shut at the contact.  “I think the bond could be severed.  It’s possible.  It might hurt, but these bonds can be broken.  I would do that for you, if you ask.  If…if you don’t want me.”

Her chest jumped as she sobbed.  “That’s just it,” she whispered.  She reached up and wiped her eye.  “I do.  That’s why I feel so awful.  I want you so much.  Every breath.  Every thought I have is of you.  It should have been Ron.  But now it’s you.  And I feel like a tramp.  I broke the heart of one of my best friends over a boy I would end up having to share!”

Very slowly, Harry pulled.  At first Hermione resisted, but the resistance crumbled as she came into his arms and cried.  Neither she nor Harry even noticed when Remus and Tonks left.    When her tears subsided, and she and Harry found themselves face to face sitting on the ground beside a beautiful lake, their lips came together.

An electric thrill sped down Hermione’s spine.  Heat bloomed in her stomach and spiked downward like lightning.  They parted for breath, wide-eyed.  Then Luna was there, grinning happily.  “Now you know what you’ve been missing, Hermione,” she said.  “Isn’t it wonderful?”

Hermione nodded mutely, unable to speak.

“For fear of getting more of an eyeful than these old eyes could bear,” Dumbledore said, “perhaps it is time we move toward the castle?”

Hermione looked at the old wizard with his twinkling eyes, and could not even find it within herself to be embarrassed.  “Did you do this to us, Professor?”

“No, dear, the power of love is not something to be trifled with.  The bonds formed from your own innate magic and your own heart.  But I can tell you this, Miss Granger, and I hope you listen well.  The bonds you feel cannot develop from a vacuum.  Harry saw your faces for a very simple reason—because you all loved him, or had within you the capacity to love him.  More importantly, he already cared for, or loved you, himself.  There is a reason he did not see Miss Vane, or Miss Abbott, or Miss Parkinson, who most would agree are also quite attractive young ladies.  What you feel is not slavery or a potion, my dear.  It is an exaggeration of what was already there.  Frankly, I always envisioned the two of you together.  Not like this, perhaps, but I knew you cared for each other a great deal.  Most of the school did.”

“But four of us,” Hermione said.  She seemed to be getting a hold of herself.  Harry stood and helped her too her feet.  His right hand lingered in hers, while unconsciously he reached for and quickly found Luna’s hand with his left.  “How can we possible function in any type of relationship?  Jealousy will tear us apart.”

Dumbledore, noticing how Harry held both girls, smiled.   “Alas, in the area of a woman’s love I am somewhat lacking, being an old bachelor myself.  But I would ask you, just now, did you feel any jealousy when you observed Miss Lovegood kissing Harry?”

“No.”

“And Miss Lovegood, did you feel any jealousy when Hermione kissed Harry?”

“I thought it was quite lovely,” Luna said.  “Frankly it made me want to kiss them both.  I still do, for that matter.”

Dumbeldore actually stuttered for a moment.  “Just so,” he recovered quickly.  “If there is any compulsion in the bonds, Miss Granger, it is to assist in the functioning of your relationship.  Come, walk with an old man.”

It was a strange sight, Harry walking hand-in-hand with a beautiful girl on either side and the old wizard a step away.  “I feel I am cast as Panderus to your Troilus and Cressida,” the old wizard said. 

“Can I be Cressida?” Luna asked. 

“She’s not exactly faithful to Troilus,” Hermione points out.

“Ohh, she gets more than one man?”  Luna smiled.  “Well, Harry is going to get four women, it’s only fair.”

Harry tripped. 

“Are you okay, dear,” Hermione said, the last word dripping sarcasm.

“The worst part is,” Harry muttered, “that she’s right.  It isn’t fair.  I don’t deserve any of you, much less four of you.”

“True,” Hermione said.  “But if we have a chance at all to make this work, it’ll only be because you believe that.”

“So what do we do next?” Luna asked.  She looked to Dumbledore, being closes to him. “Can we just go have sex yet?”

This time, it was Dumbledore’s turn to stumble.  “Given the nature of the bonds and titles in place, Miss Lovegood, I believe it would be appropriate to follow the customs in place.”

Luna nodded.  “So we get married, then we have sex?”

“That is generally the way it is done.”

“Do we get married together, and all have sex at the same time?”

By this time, Harry and Hermione were both as red as tomatoes.  Luna, however, continued walking along as calm as if they were discussing the weather.

“I think each of you deserves your own wedding, don’t you?” Dumbledore suggested.  “In fact, the legal loophole that will allow multiple marriages demands it.   For you see, legally Harry is five people.  He is Harry Potter of the House of Potter and Black, and Lord of Hogwarts, the heir of the four founders.  You, Luna, would be marrying Lord Ravenclaw and would assume the title of Lady Ravenclaw.”

Luna grinned and leaned over to look at Hermione.  “You must admit that does sound much more romantic and mysterious than Lady Gryffindor.”

“If we were the Bronte sisters.” 

Luna giggled.  Harry stared at them.  “You guys lost me at Panderus,” he finally said.

The two girls laughed as they reached the gates of Hogwarts.  Hermione sobered, though as they stepped into the courtyard.  “Headmaster, did you know about my family?”

“What’s that?” Harry asked.

“I’m sorry, Harry, I forgot to tell you,” Dumbledore said.  He looked genuinely abashed.  “Hermione found the need to obliviate her own parents and send them out of the country.”

Harry blinked.  “You what?”

“It was the night you were attacked,” Hermione said.  “I was sure they were going to come over me too.”

“And they did, but not until after the failed attempt on Minister Bones,” Dumbledore said.  “Miss Granger’s home was destroyed, Harry.  She has been staying at the Burrow.”

“I don’t want to go back there,” Hermione said.  “It has been a very uncomfortable stay.”

“You are of course welcome to stay here,” Dumbledore said.

“Of course she’s staying here,” Harry said quickly.  “And so is Luna.  In fact, you should get all the Ministry Six back here as soon as you can.”

“The Longbottom Estate and the Burrow have both been placed under the Fidelius Charm,” Dumbledore explained.  “As has the Bones Residence.  They are as well protected as magic can make them.  However, Xenophilius refused the Fidelius because of his paper, so I agree that Miss Lovegood is safer here.”

“What about Susan?” Harry asked.  “Or for that matter, Daphne Greengrass.  Is she in danger?”

“The Greengrass family has been aligned with the dark arts for many generations,” Dumbledore said, “but they have remained neutral in the affairs of Voldemort.  So far they have escaped notice.”

“But eventually we’re going to need to meet with her,” Hermione pointed out.  “When that happens, will she be safe?”

“Only time will tell,” Dumbledore said.  “Exactly what happens will depend on her father.  They adhere to the old traditions, Harry.  If she comes to you, it will likely be with a marriage contract in hand.”

“We need to meet with her,” Hermione declared.   “And with Susan.  All four of us need to all sit down together and be sure.”

“I quite agree,” Dumbledore said.  “And so we shall.  But we shall do so as is appropriate for your ages.”

“What does that mean?” Hermione asked.

“It means, Miss Granger, that a sixteen-year-old witch, no matter how brilliant, cannot legally enter into a marriage without the informed consent of her parents.  We must fetch your parents and bring them to Hogwarts.”

Hermione looked stricken and both Harry and Luna gripped her hands.  “My parents?  But I obliviated them.”

“You can undo that spell, Miss Granger.”

“But they’ll hate me!”

\--

\--

Daphne remained outside long after her sister went back into the house.  She could hear voices from an adjoining property and walked through the trees of their garden until she stood before an old stone fence.  She stepped up onto a rock and looked onto another yard not too dissimilar from her own.

Muggles were playing a game in the back garden of the other house.  There were perhaps ten of them, of different races and ages.  They laughed and played while adults gathered on the back porch to talk casually together over cups of tea or even wine.  There was a cake nearby lined with unlit candles.  A birthday party?

She knew her parents absolutely hated living so close to muggles.  Her father clamored bitterly about the noise of the muggle automobiles and their radios.  He had even snuck out on occasion and cursed the vehicles not to be able to play loud music at all. 

But they were not Malfoys.  They could not afford a huge estate far from the prying eyes of the muggles.  In fact, they could barely afford the home they had.  And so they shared three property lines with three other muggle homes around them.  They saw muggles walking by the front of their homes every day, and even had to greet them in the mornings when they stepped outside their wards.

As she watched these children, some of whom looked close to her age, she wished she were a muggle as well.  She wished she could live her life in ignorance of the storm gathering on the horizon, where she could be free to love whom she wanted without the threat of retaliation from one side or the other.

She wished she could go to Harry and run away from the magical world entirely. 

She turned when heard a pop.  “Yes, Botty?”

The female elf smiled.  “Miss Daphne, ma’am, Master asks you to comes to him in the library.”

“Thank you, Botty, I’ll be right there.”

“Thank yous, Young Miss.”

Daphne started walking toward the house.  She wondered if it was her father’s turn to tell her to stop acting so emotional and week.  Her mother’s words still left a bitter taste in her mouth, and she wondered if the older woman had ever _felt_ anything in the whole of her life.

Her mother was in the same chair as always reading a trashy witch romance.  Astoria was playing a game of exploding solitaire.  She ignored them both and went upstairs to her father’s library.

He was seated behind his table with a long roll of formal parchment.  Next to him he had open the Greengrass grimoire and book of records. 

Her heart skipped a beat as she realized what this meant.  Was it really time?  Was he going to give her to Malfoy?  Or to one of his goons?

Would he give her to the Dark Lord?

“Daphne, sit down, please,” her father said.

She obeyed without saying a word and waited.

He poured over the contract with a look of concentration before he sighed, leaned back, and rubbed his eyes tiredly.  “Have you seen the Daily Prophet today?”

“No, Papa.”

“Harry Potter has been declared the Heir of the Four Founders.  He has assumed a seat in the Wizengamot and votes as Lord Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin.  According to the paper he is the wealthiest wizard in the world.”

Daphne’s jaw dropped. 

“Didn’t dream about that, did you?”

Her jaw snapped shut again and color splashed across her cheeks.  “You were listening.”

“Yes.  You said you dreamed about him.”

She looked down at her shoes and said nothing. 

“Daphne?”  She did not look up at first.  “Daphne?” he said again, with a softer tone.  “Those boys in Slytherin, did they hurt you?”

“No, Papa.”

“Did they try?”

She folded her hands together.  “Yes, Papa.”

“Have they hurt other girls?”

“Yes, Papa.”

“And do you think they will try to hurt you again?  Or your sister?”

Daphne growled under her breath at the moisture in her eyes.  She hated this…this emotional rollercoaster she seemed to be one.  She never cried, ever!  And yet here she was bawling like some stupid baby in front of her own father!

“Daphne, are you or your sister in danger there?”

“We are going to class with Draco Bloody Malfoy, of course we’re in danger!” she snapped.  “Malfoy’s already made a few remarks about Astoria, even though she’s only going to be a fourth year.  It’s just a matter of time before he takes The Mark and then anything else he wants.”

Antonius sat back in his chair and stared at the anomaly that was his daughter.  The cold, aloof girl with the beautiful black hair and eyes that could freeze a man’s soul seemed gone, replaced by a terrified, saddened child who was even more beautiful.

“I have something I want you to see,” he finally said.  He dusted off the setting powder from the parchment and handed it over.

Daphne stared at it unseeing at first, until the name finally registered.  “Harry Potter?”

“The Greengrass family has always followed the old ways, but we never followed the Dark Lord.  With Potter’s elevation as Lord Slytherin, I suspect there will be no neutrality any more.  Voldemort will not stand by and allow the boy to assume the role as Heir of Slytherin lightly.  And yet, Potter has done just that.  And he has Dumbledore in one pocket and now the minister of magic on the other.  If there is any time to form an alliance, it is now.  I want to offer your contract to Harry Potter, Lord Slytherin, in return for protection for this house, and your sister.”

“You are my father, Papa,” Daphne said carefully.  “You will do what you feel is right.”

“Perhaps.  But I will not do this at all, Daphne, if you do not wish it.”

She stared at her father in genuine surprise.  “You would let me choose?”

“I do not know if I have ever been a good father, Daphne.  I suspect your mother has not done well in her role.  But I do care for you.  I love you, if you wish to use such a vulgar word.  As much as is possible within our traditions, I wish you every happiness.  If this match is acceptable to you, it could also help save our family from the Dark Lord.”

Daphne handed the parchment back.  “I don’t know if I’ve ever even spoken with Potter.  My dreams were my own problem.  But I…I will not object to this contract.  I agree it would be a good match for the family if the Light wins.  If nothing else, my children will carry the name Slytherin.”

“Very well,” Antonius said.  “I will send the contract on and arrange a meeting with Potter’s retainer.”

Daphne nodded.  “Thank you, Papa.”  She stood and walked out of the library, only to pause at the door.  “I love you too.” 

 

 


	9. In Which Harry Dreams a Dark and Terrible Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At least there was no pun.

For the very first time, Hermione Granger shared a room with Luna Lovegood.  Being in different houses meant that they rarely saw one another.

Though she genuinely liked the younger girl, she very quickly saw why the other Ravenclaws picked on her so much. Luna Lovegood did not just talk in her sleep, she sometimes sang, sometimes recited poetry, and once recited almost word for word Plato’s _Republic_ in its entirety, in the original Greek.  If it were not for the fact that she did so in a normal speaking voice in the middle of the night, Hermione would have been impressed with the girl’s memorization skills.

Eventually, she placed a silencing charm on Luna’s bed and tried to get back to sleep.

She fell quickly into a wonderful dream of Harry sliding into bed beside her.  His hands roamed freely over her body as his lips nuzzled against her neck.  He looked down at her and said, in Luna Lovegood’s voice, “I love your hair.”

Hermione’s eyes snapped open.  The lips nuzzling against her neck were most definitely not those of a boy, much less Harry Potter.  “Luna, what are you doing?”

“I’m sleep-kissing,” the girl said with her eyes closed. 

Hermione lifted a foreign hand from her breast and glared.  “Luna, would you please get back in your own bed?”

“Will you come with me?”

“I will not.”

“How can I kiss you if we’re not in the same bed?”

“You can’t,” Hermione said.  “Save your kisses for Harry.”

“But I love you too!” Luna said, still with her eyes closed.  “I want to kiss all of you.”

Hermione sighed tragically, and then climbed out of bed.  She wasn’t going to sleep anymore anyway, not with the threat of seeing her parents again after what she did.  Luna sat up behind her, wrapped both arms around her stomach, and leaned her head against Hermione’s back.

“Sorry,” the younger girl said.  “Never had friends before.  I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do.  You don’t like girl kisses, then?”

Despite herself, or possibly because of the bond, Hermione found she could not be angry with the girl.  Truthfully, the nuzzling did not feel bad.  But like everything else since they returned from the ministry, Luna’s attentions just felt wrong somehow. 

“Just trying to come to grips with my morals,” she finally said.

“Morals can be useful, I suppose,” Luna said with a yawn.  “I’ve never had any, mind you, but I know many who do.  But seems like they can really make people unhappy.”  She squeezed Hermione’s stomach.  “You know I love you just as much as I love Harry.  You’re like a sister I would have had if Mum hadn’t died.”

“Would you kiss your sister like you were kissing me?”

“I’ll never know, will I?” Luna said.  She scooted over until she sat beside Hermione.  “I wonder if Susan or Daphne will like girl kisses?”

Hermione stared at her friend almost with a sense of wonder.  “You really have no problem with any of this, do you?”

“Did you know that Harry was the very first boy, after four years of school, who was nice to me?” Luna’s eyes looked into some unknowable distance, though her voice was soft and filled with a tone of wonderment.  “There were some boys who wanted to touch my body or make me do things for them, but they were not very nice and I said no.  There was that one boy who touched me anyway.  I sent the nargles after him.  He didn’t sleep for a week.”

“You mean Michael Corner?” Hermione asked.  She remembered Corner went an entire week the previous year without sleep.

Luna nodded.  “But Harry was nice.  He didn’t make fun of me even if he didn’t understand everything I was trying to say.  He was nice.  And he felt so delicious during those DA meetings when he would reach around and help me with my wand work.”

“Yeah, that was nice,” Hermione reminisced.  She was better in theory than anyone else, but in Defense Harry was such a natural that he even had to help her on occasion.

“So I don’t have a problem,” Luna summed up.  “I am getting a man who I think loves me, and three sisters.  I’m sure one of them will like girl kisses, so when Harry is with one of you I will have someone else to hold and kiss too.  You see, I don’t like being alone.  I have been alone a long time, and now that I can see I won’t be alone, soon, I don’t ever want to be alone again.”

It made sense, in a Luna Lovegood sort of way. 

There conversation was interrupted by a loud shout in the hallway.  The two of them jumped to their feet without hesitation and ran into the hall.  They were stopped almost immediately by the out-stretched hand of Albus Dumbledore.  A step behind him stood Professor McGonagall.

“Professor, what’s…” Hermione started.

“Shhh,” Dumbledore whispered.  He nodded up the hall, and the two girls saw Harry Potter walking stiff-legged through the hall. 

“Rowena!” he screamed again.  “What have you done to my son!”

Hermione’s lips formed an “O” as she looked back up at Dumbledore.  “Son?”

“He is not himself,” Dumbledore whispered.  “We will follow to ensure he does not harm himself. Come.”

The headmaster started ahead.  McGonagall nodded for the two girls to follow and then brought up the rear.  They followed Harry to the Ravenclaw tower.  All of them watched as Harry waved a hand and the Ravenclaw portrait swung wide to admit him.  This was Hermione’s first time in the Ravenclaw dorms and she had to admit she was impressed.  The interior was beautiful.

Still Harry strode up the stairs screaming for Rowena Ravenclaw, until he reached the uppermost room.  Professor Flitwick was on holiday, so his room was sealed up tight.  Harry removed all of the diminutive professor’s wards and spells with a flick of his hand and stumbled into the room.  Those who cared for him followed a few steps later to find Harry standing in the center of the room, staring down at Flitwick’s desk.

“What did you do to my son, you…you…whore!” he roared.  Magic flared out from him, but it was not Harry’s magic.  If felt dark and twisted by an ancient and alien rage.

As the magical wave passed over them, Hermione blinked.  Beside her, Luna gasped as a ghostly image formed in front of them.  Flitwick’s desk faded before the image of an old four-poster bed of heavy oak.  On the bed lay the withered form of Rowena Ravenclaw, ancient and dying.  

“It has been sixty years, you fool,” the ghost whispered.  “And you only now realize the truth?  Did his ghost finally confess to you?”

“What did you do to my son?”

“I sent him after your daughter.”

Harry staggered back as if struck.  “Daughter?”

“Did you not realize the child was yours, Salazar?  When you took your leave with me that night so many years ago, did you not think the child I bore nine months later was yours?  Did you not note the common eyes your son shared with her?”

“You…you…why did you not tell me?  Tell them?  You let my son woo her.  You let them bear a child together, brother and sister!”

“And when my daughter stole my diadem and ran away, I sent your son after her, knowing he would bring her back.  But they are cursed, Salazar, by having your blood in their veins.  He killed her for her foolishness, and then himself for his.  Their child I have spirited away, to be raised by others better fit for such endeavors.  You will never know your grandchild, Salazar Slytherin.  Your name shall die with you, and it shall be cursed as a dark and twisted name for a dark and twisted wizard.  I shall ensure it, for this is the very least I owe you for your affections.  On my death bed, I speak to you of nothing but my hatred for you, and my curse.  You shall have no peace for the rest of your days.  Madness shall descend on you, and haunt you until your end.  This I say to you, Salazar Slytherin!”

Harry stood trembling.  Sweat poured from his back as he raised his wand.  Hermione did not recognize the spell he used, but the results were horrible.  The dying Rowena Ravenclaw cried out in agony as the spell ripped the flesh from her bones in a shower of cutting magic.  Her body writhed as it was literally ground and cut into a bloody heap.

Suddenly the image faded.  Harry fell to his knees on the flagstones of the floor, then leaned over and was thoroughly sick. 

Whatever leash Dumbledore thought he had on the girls snapped as Hermione and Luna both rushed forward to Harry.  McGonagall stepped forward as well.  “Albus, was any of that real?”

“Oh yes,” Dumbledore said with a note of awe in his voice.  “Very real, and important as well.  For a question has been answered that has plagued me since Harry was revealed as the heir.  The magic of the heir is obvious, but Hogwarts said he carried the blood of Slytherin as well.  Now I understand.  Rowena’s granddaughter was herself the granddaughter of Slytherin through both her parents.  That girl would grow up and marry Antiochus Peverell.  From her loins came the three brothers of the Deathly Hallows.  We know Voldemort was descended from the son Cadmus.  And we know that Harry was descended from the brother Ignotus.  And now we know beyond doubt how the Peverells are descended from Slytherin.”

McGonagall nodded and looked back to Harry and the two girls comforting him.  “Albus, I am not comfortable with Harry having all these bonds.  It is bad enough to try and encourage a marriage between minors, but a plural marriage seems outright barbaric.”

“I too feel a certain apprehension,” he admitted.  “When word is received of this, I have no doubt what reputation I have left will be tarnished.  But I trust even you would be hard-pressed to deny the power of the bonds they have already formed.”

McGonagall nodded.  “And when they really are married?  How will we house them?”

“They will be allowed separate quarters.  In fact, I suspect Hogwarts will provide quite well for her lord.”

Harry heard nothing of the adult’s conversation.  The taste of bile still stung his throat as Slytherin’s dark magic hummed in his veins and his wand.  He could still clearly see the look on Ravenclaw’s face as she pronounced her curse.  He could feel the hatred pouring from her eyes at him.  Suddenly all the other facts became clear, including the great tragedy.

A wash of cold air made him look up.  He felt hands on his back and heard both Luna and Hermione gasp as the Bloody Baron floated into the room.  Moments later he was joined by the Grey Lady.  Harry leaned back on his heels and stared at both of them with tears in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” he said.  He did not bother to hide the tremor in his voice. 

The Bloody Baron, whose name while alive was Saladin Salazar, knelt in his ghostly form before Harry.  “In you flows my blood.”

The Grey Lady joined him, beautiful even in death.  “As well as mine.”

Harry looked at each of them. Like Godric and Helga, he knew these two were in essence his grandparents with many greats added.  “You should not have suffered like you did,” he said.  “They should have loved you more!”

“The past is the past,” the Baron said.  He looked at the Grey Lady.  “For a brief time, we knew love so powerful it burned us.  Even now, after all these centuries, knowing that our love was forbidden for more reasons than even we knew, I cannot regret it.  My only regret is that I let that love blind my senses and lead me to murder.”

“I could never have gone back to her,” the Grey Lady said to the Baron.  “When she told me of you and our relationship, I could not return.  The fact she never told you just proved her cruelty in the end.  Her hatred for what our father did to her killed us, my love, just as surely as your blade.”

The two of them turned to Harry, Hermione and Luna.  In one voice, the Bloody Baron and Gray Lady said:  “We bless thee, Harry Potter, last scion of our houses.  We bless those you love, and all those who shall forever come after you.  May your love shine as bright as ours, and much, much longer!”

The two ghosts faded from sight.  Harry discovered he had been holding his breath and released it.  Suddenly the Grey Lady returned, hovering an inch from him.  “Seek my mother’s diadem,” she whispered.  “Just as the other heir of my father sought it years ago.  You shall find it in the heart of the castle.”

She disappeared again. 

Harry remained where he was on his knees, with Luna and Hermione on either side, as the morning sun broke through a bank of clouds and sent rose-colored light through the stained glass effigy of Rowena Ravenclaw. 

“We’re going to have to re-write _Hogwarts: A History_ ,” Hermione said.

\--

\--

That afternoon found Harry and Hermione pacing nervously in an unused classroom on the first floor of the castle just inside the gates. 

Luna watched them pace while enjoying a cup of pudding.  Beside her, Xenophilius Lovegood busied himself by looking over several future articles for the _Quibbler_.   Neither of them seemed particularly concerned. 

Hermione and Harry, however, continued their nervous pacing.

“Mr. Potter!  Miss Granger!” McGonagall finally said, “you are going to wear down the flagstones.  Just please sit down.”

“Easy for you to say,” Harry muttered.  “I’m about the meet the parents of four girls I’m going to marry.  Four sets of future in-laws.  Do you have any idea what that’s going to be like?”

“At least you didn’t obliviate them, give them false memories and exile them from their home,” Hermione said. She looked like she was on the verge of tears herself.

Harry stopped his pacing and stared at her.  “Oh.” 

Minerva McGonagall was a pragmatic woman.  Over the years she had seen many things, including arranged marriages among the very young.  She once had a pair of fourth years that were legally married and, by right of their contracts, required to both consummate the marriage and sleep together.  She still remembered comforting the poor girl the next morning while her fourteen-year-old husband looked on in obvious discomfort.

But never had she encountered a situation like this.  Harry had every reason to be nervous.  But what struck her was the way he stopped and lost all sense of his own impending meeting when Hermione confessed her own fear.

The old professor watched as Harry moved across the floor, stopped Hermione’s pacing by taking her shoulders, and pulled her into a long comforting hug.

The gesture made her think that perhaps there was some hope for Harry after all.

The Grangers chose that moment to step through the door, and they did not look happy.

Hermione froze in Harry’s arms as she caught sight of them.   She took a few steps toward them and then stopped.    “Mum, Dad.”

“Are we?” Saint John Granger said with a thunderous expression.  “Are we your parents?  I can’t remember exactly myself.”

Hermione bent over, as if he had struck her in the stomach. 

Harry rushed to her and glared at his future father in law.  “Better to have a hazy memory than be dead!” he growled.

“And you must be the inestimable Harry Potter,” Mr. Granger said.  His voice rose with each word.  “For years and years we heard all about the great Harry Potter.  Harry did this, Harry did that.  Harry took our sixteen year old daughter on a trip that damn near got her killed!”

“Harry didn’t take me!” Hermione said.  “He wanted to leave me behind and get himself killed just like always!”

“And just like always she wouldn’t let me,” Harry said.  “Because she is the bravest person I’ve ever known.  Can you imagine what it took for her to wipe your memories and send you away?  Can you imagine how much it hurt her to know that if she didn’t, you would both be killed?  Have you seen your house since you got back?”

“What about our house?” Mrs. Granger asked.

“Burned,” Hermione said.  She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand.  “The Death Eaters came to kill us all, just like I thought.  We weren’t there, so they burned the house.  We were the lucky ones.  They killed Harry’s guardians and tortured his aunt for an hour before she died.”

The righteous fury dropped from St. John’s face as he stared first as Hermione, then Harry.  “Killed?”

Dumbledore chose that moment to enter.  The door closed behind him.  “Mr. and Mrs. Granger, now that your memories have been restored, there are some things you should be made aware of.”

“We’re at war,” Hermione said.  “At the end of our Forth Year, a Dark Wizard everyone thought was dead kidnapped Harry and a classmate named Cedric Diggory and performed the darkest magic to restore himself to a new body.  They killed Cedric, but Harry managed to get away.  Last year, when Harry and Professor Dumbledore tried to convince the wizarding world that Voldemort was back, the Ministry attacked Harry and even tried to arrest the headmaster.  They sent this horrible woman to run the school and she tortured Harry and almost used an Unforgivable on him.  At the end of the year, Harry had a vision that Voldemort was going to kill his godfather at the Ministry of Magic.  He was going to go by himself, but none of his friends would allow him to, so in the end six of us went.”

“It was a trap,” Harry admitted.  “Voldemort sent a false vision.  We were able to hold them off long enough for help to come, but my Godfather died.  Then the night I got home after term, they attacked my home.”

“The night you…” Calliope looked at her daughter.  “Your dream.  That’s when you…”

“I felt everything he felt, mother,” Hermione said with misty eyes.  “I saw what they did to his family and the pain of the curses they had him under.  We’ve…we’ve bonded.  I knew that Voldemort and his Death Eaters would come after me next because everyone knows Harry and I are close.  I was right.”

“She saved your life, Mr. Granger,” Harry said.  “She made a hard decision no one should ever have to make, and chose to be alone so that you and your wife would live.  She’s the bravest, strongest witch I’ve ever met.  And I love her.”

“This is too much,” Mrs. Granger said.  She sought a chair to sit on and barely blinked an eye when Dumbledore transfigured a chair for her. 

On the headmaster’s unspoken order, a pair of elves appeared with a full tea service.  They disappeared quickly.  Calliope Granger took a cup with one unsteady hand.  “Thank you.”

“Of course, Madam,” Dumbledore said.

“That’s why you brought us here?” Saint John Granger said.  “To tell us these things?”

“Er…”  Hermione blushed and looked down at her feet.  “Actually, that was the easy part.”

Beside her, Harry flushed a brilliant beet red.

“It appears Harry needs to get married,” Dumbledore said for the two teens.  “We’ve asked you here for you to consent to a traditional wizarding marriage contract between your daughter and Harry.”

“What?”  Mr. Granger staggered.

“Oh, it gets better!” Luna said happily from her corner. 

“Or worse,” Hermione muttered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mrs. Granger said.  She sounded a bit shrill now.

“It appears Mr. Potter needs to get married multiple times.  Four is our current estimate.”

“Four weddings?”  Now Mr. Granger sounded hopeful.

“Four brides,” Dumbledore corrected him.

Finally Mr. Granger sat on a quickly transfigured chair.  “You people are bloody insane.”

“Why, yes we are, thank you,” Luna said with natural cheer. 

“Let me guess, she’s one of the brides?” Saint John said.

“She is.  Two more will be here within the hour.”

Saint John looked at his wife and shook his head.  “Hermione, I love you so much, but I’m beginning to realize sending you to this blasted school was the worse decision we ever made.  In the course of just a few days our own daughter steals our memories, ships us off to the other side of the world, then has her teachers magic us back so she can tell us she wants to enter into some barbaric polygamist union with a boy nearly a year younger than she is.”

“That about sums it up,” Dumbledore nodded sagely.

“He forgot the part about his daughter saving his and Mrs. Granger’s lives,” Harry said a little coldly. 

“You!” Saint John said as he shot to his feet.  “You don’t get a say in this!  Hermione is my daughter!  She is my responsibility.  And I’m not going to let her get sucked into some wild teenage ploy.”

“She is to be Lady Gryffindor of the House of Gryffindor,” Harry said.  “By charter granted by King Aethelstan and later confirmed by King Henry IV, her first-born son will be Lord Earl Gryffindor and one of the richest men in the wizarding world.”

“You…are…sixteen…bloody…years…old!” S aint John roared.  “Why do you think you need to do this now?”

“Because I probably won’t live to see eighteen,” Harry said calmly.

Granger fell completely still.

“For reasons beyond his power,” Dumbledore said into the silence, “Harry is essentially our only hope against Lord Voldemort.  But he is also the sole surviving Heir of the four most important wizarding families in England, and perchance the world.  The magic within him, and the magic of this school, is compelling him to continue the family lines.  He and his potential brides have all formed deep emotional bonds with each other through their magic, a process not even I can fully appreciate or understand.  Simply put, they are all madly in love with each other.  And it is happening now, Mr. Granger, in the event Harry is unsuccessful in his war with Voldemort.”

The man stared first at Dumbledore, then Harry, and finally at Hermione.  “You are all insane,” he finally said.  “Come on, Hermione, we’re leaving.”

“No, Dad, we’re not.”

He stopped as if struck and turned to stare at her.  “You are my daughter!” he roared.  “You are coming with me right now!”

“No, Dad, I’m not,” Hermione said again.  “I am your daughter, but I am also a witch.  I don’t belong in your world, not any more.  And like it or not, I am bonded with Harry.”

She left Harry’s side to stand before her father.  “Daddy, I never told you what was really happening because you would never understand.  I’m not like you or mom.  I never will be.  Magic isn’t just some trick I do, it is who I am.”  She turned her wand on her own dress and transfigured it into a long, flowing white gown.

Because of the under-age restrictions, this was the first time the Grangers truly saw what Hermione could do.  Mr. Granger stepped back a little, gaping.

“And you should know that Harry…”  She looked back at where he stood, ready to lend support.  She turned back to her father, and her mother who now stood right behind and to the side of him.  “Harry is part of who I am as well.  He saved my life from a troll during my first year.  Didn’t hesitate.  He’s always accepted me for who I am, and…even without this blasted bond, I think I would love him regardless.  We’re just speeding up the process a little.”

“But you’re only sixteen,” Calliope said.  She was weeping.

“In September, I’ll reach my majority age by wizarding law,” she told them.  “We’re just not sure we should wait that long.”

“But if you’re right and something happens…”

“She will never want for anything,” Harry said with certainty. 

“Arrangements will be made to ensure Miss Granger and the others are safely evacuated from the country should the worst fall.  Sadly, if such should happen I have no doubt I will fall with Harry, but we have many friends both here and abroad and they will be well-cared for.”

“Mother, Dad, I know it’s hard to believe this.  But for the wizarding world, this is a war.  And like it or not, I’m right in the middle of it.  The Minister of Magic has already released me from the restrictions for under age use.  Even she recognized that we are the next soldiers.  Please don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

Saint John looked up from his daughter’s face to Dumbledore and the rest.  Finally, his eyes landed on Harry.  He stepped around Hermione until he towered over the shorter boy.  “Why Hermione?”

“She was the first person in my life to hug me,” Harry said simply, with a shrug.  “She nagged me to do my homework.  During the hardest times in my life, she was there to support me and help me, and sometimes lead me.  She is the smartest, bravest person I have ever met.  She is beautiful, and I love her.”

He pointed to Luna.  “And her?”

“After I lost my godfather in the Department of Mysteries, she came to comfort me.  She didn’t try to tell me what to think, she simply listened.  I’ve never known anyone so brilliantly imaginative as her, and in the fight she was one of the few to come through without injuries.  She loves completely, without hesitation.  She is beautiful, and I love her.”

“I bet you’d say that about all your girls.”

“I haven’t even spoken to one,” Harry admitted.  “I’m almost sick to my stomach with it.  Imagine how you felt meeting Mrs. Granger’s parents the first time, then multiply that by four and then add in the fact that some of those parents could hex me, and you might start to guess how this feels for me.   But I’ll do it, sir, because I love Hermione.”

Saint John turned to Xenophilius.  “You’re daughter is in on this.  Why don’t you object?”

The older, slightly unhinged wizard blinked.  “Object to my daughter marrying Lord Ravenclaw?  What, man, do you think I’m insane?”

“I thought you said he was…” Callliope said.

“Harry is the embodiment of the Four Founders.  Each woman he marries will be marrying a single aspect of his status,” Dumbledore explained.  “Even under wizarding law, plural marriages are not generally allowed except for the rare purposes of continuing fading bloodlines.  Miss Lovegood shall marry Harry Potter, Lord Ravenclaw.  Your daughter will marry Harry Potter, Lord Gryffindor.”

Albus looked up and smiled.  “And it appears that Lady Hufflepuff has just arrived.  Amelia, please bring Susan and her parents in.  Mr. and Mrs. Granger, I’d like to introduce you to Amelia Bones, Minister of Magic.  This is her niece, Susan Bones, and her parents, Stella and Albertus Bones.”

“Call me Albert, please,” Susan’s father said.  He reached out a hand and Saint John found himself taking it.  “So, a muggle, eh?  You should know your daughter is somewhat famous in the wizarding world.  She’s been called the brightest witch of her age.”

“Er, thank you,” Granger said.

Susan stepped away from her family toward Harry and Hermione.  She looked for the longest time at Hermione, then at Harry.  Her face flushed red.  “Hi,” she said.  “Thank you.  For saving my life.”

“He does that,” Hermione said.  Then, acting on an impulse she knew was right, Hermione stepped forward and wrapped the taller girl in a hug.

Susan returned the hug, and before either knew it Luna was there, and they were all crying.  Harry blushed and turned around to wipe his eyes. 

“Hmm,” Albert said.  “Looks like Susan isn’t the only one, then.”

“You mean you’re okay with this whole mess?” Saint John asked.

“What, about the marriage contracts?”  He shrugged.  “She’s going marry someone someday anyway.  He saved her life a few days ago.  Saved her aunt too.  Faced the Dark Lord himself without batting an eye.  I may not be thrilled with her being just one of four wives, but if I have to have a son in law, I couldn’t think of a better one than Harry.”

Saint John turned to Amelia.  “And you, you’re the Minister.  You’re okay with it too?”

“I am,” she said clearly.  “So long as my niece is.  And as you can see, Mr. Granger, Susan does not appear to have an issue with the other girls.”

Dumbldore stood up and cleared his throat.  “And it appears the last participant has arrived.  Welcome, Mr. Greengrass.”

Harry gulped so loudly everyone could hear it.

 


	10. In Which Harry Meets His Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daphne is crazy-sexy.

Daphne stood frozen on the edge of the room beside her father. She looked up and saw his carefully crafted expression and fought an urge to wince.

It was a spacious classroom, and yet somehow still felt crowded. She recognized Dumbledore and McGonagall, Harry and the other girls, but she did not recognize any of the other adults. Her father stepped into the room and she had little choice but to follow.

“Thank you for agreeing to see me, Headmaster,” Greengrass said. “You are acting on behalf of Lord Slytherin?”

“I am indeed,” Dumbledore said. He turned twinkling eyes onto Daphne. “It is a pleasure to see you, Miss. Greengrass. I trust you are well?”

“I’m as good as can be.” Her eyes roamed the room until they locked onto one set of brilliant green. “Hello, Harry.”

“Hello, Daphne,” he said. He turned to the others. “Daphne, this is Luna Lovegood, Susan Bones and Hermione Granger.”

Daphne stepped further into the room and surveyed the three other girls. Luna was thin and frail, with an otherworldly glean to her silver-gray eyes. She was very pretty, but in an uncommon fashion. Susan was beautiful in the exact opposite way as Daphne herself. Where Daphne had black hair, Susan’s was the color of honey. Both had blue eyes, but Daphne’s was a dark cobalt, while Susan’s was a warmer shade of sky blue. Then there was Granger, the ugly duckling who during her fourth year somehow turned into a swan.

They all had red-rimmed eyes and red noses. “So I’m not the only one’s been blubbering like a baby?” she said.

“The bond has affected us all,” Hermione said. “How did you…it was a shock to me that there were four of us. How did you know?”

“When father said he was the heir of the Four Founders, I just guessed it would have to be something like this,” Daphne said. She turned to Harry. “Good thing you’re not a prat, Potter. This would have been a lot harder otherwise.”

“You think this is easy?” he muttered.

“For you, no, I suppose not,” she said. She turned to her father. “Yes, Papa. I’ll do it.”

Antonius Greengrass nodded to his daughter with the ghost of a smile, and handed the contract over. “Our terms. First and foremost is protection. We’ve so far escaped the Dark Lord’s notice because we are pureblood and adhere to the old ways. With this contract that will no longer be the case. I want assurances that my family will be protected. If possible, I want Astoria out of Slytherin, or I want a permanent form of protection within that house. If any students in the house take the Dark Mark, which I believe will happen this year or the next, her life will be in danger. The same will be true for Daphne.”

“Daphne will be segregated apart from the other students because of her status,” Dumbledore said. “And we will provide the younger Miss Greengrass with comprehensive protection, or transfer her to Ravenclaw if necessary. She will be afforded every protection at my disposal, and I daresay, at Harry’s.”

“I’ll guard her like she was my own sister,” Harry said without hesitation.

Greengrass stared at Harry for a moment before nodding. “I was told you have a tendency to protect people.”

“Must be in my blood,” Harry said with a grin.

“Or at least a quarter of it,” Greengrass agreed. “I want a bride price of ten thousand galleons.”

Saint John Granger choked, as did, surprisingly, Amelia Bones. “Ten thousand? Greengrass, don’t let your greed blind you. Five thousand is the custom even for the wealthiest purebloods.”

“Daphne’s worth ten thousand,” Harry said, cutting the argument off. “All of them are. Mr. Granger, your bride price will be converted into pounds. But the rest will receive ten thousand galleons.”

“A bride price is barbaric!” Saint John said.

Greengrass turned and stared. “Ahh, Granger’s parents. I forget she was a mud…”

He froze mid-sentence with a wand pointed an inch from his nose. “Do not say that word,” Harry Potter said in a voice that could freeze the air itself. “She is going to be your daughter’s sister.”

Greengrass nodded very slowly. “Forgive me, Lord Slytherin. Old habits die hard, but I shall endeavor to not slip again.”

Harry removed his wand. “I forgive you,” he said, oddly formal.

Greengrass turned to Saint John Granger. “And to you as well, Mr. Granger, I give my apologies. My family name is seven hundred years old. We are pureblood, and have followed the traditions of the witches and wizards of England for many centuries. I am sure that to you, some of these traditions may seem odd.”

“Let me guess, you dance naked around bonfires on Halloween,” St. John said dismissively.

“Clothes are entirely optional, of course,” Greengrass said. He was not joking.

“But discouraged,” Daphne added. She turned to Harry and grinned. “It’s a shame you weren’t at the last Samhain, Potter. I’m sure you would have been a hit.” Back to Mr. Granger, she added, “Like your daughter, I am a witch. I ride a broomstick. I have a familiar—mine is a raven, Hermione’s is a half-kneazle cat. Harry’s is an owl. I brew potions at midnight and cast glamours and charms. I could kill you with a swish of my wand, and with training I could reanimate your dead corpse to do my bidding. That happened to an uncle of mine who served the Dark Lord and failed in a task. And yes, I have danced naked around a bonfire to celebrate the holy days of Hecate. Muggle-borns do not understand everything that makes up the culture of the Purebloods, but there is a culture there more ancient than anything you Christians can claim. That is why I cannot marry Harry Potter, but why I can marry Lord Slytherin.”

Saint John stared at the raven-haired beauty in stunned silence.

Dumbledore, in the meantime, was reading over the contract. “Since Mr. Potter has agreed to the bride price, everything else appears to be quite in order. I assume that you wish not to publish the contract until the day of the wedding?”

“That’s correct,” Greengrass said.

Dumbledore placed his wand on the parchment and said, “ _Apographon_ ,” and suddenly the contract multiplied. Dumbledore handed one to Xenophilius, one to Albert Bones, and finally one to Saint John Granger.

“I took the liberty of altering the exact wording from Miss Greengrass’s contract, but otherwise this is a very acceptable marriage contract. Because of the unique nature of Harry’s standing in the wizarding world, these contracts are something of a necessity.”

Mrs. Granger cleared her throat. “Something I don’t understand. You call all the girl’s parents in here, where are Harry’s?”

“My parents were murdered by Voldemort the night he gave me this scar,” Harry said, pointing. “My guardians were murdered last week. So the Wizengamot declared me an adult.”

Saint John opened his mouth, and then snapped it shut again and returned to his study of the contract. Calliope Granger looked around the room and said, “So what happens next? Say we sign this contract, what will happen?”

Luna perked up. “We can get married and have sex!” she announced.

Hermione groaned. “Luna, be quiet!” she hissed.

Saint John looked like he was about to launch into another verbal assault, when Dumbledore said, “As direct as always, Miss Lovegood. Essentially, she is right. The marriages would take place as soon as possible and consummated with the hope of producing an heir.”

“I feel like you’re trying to buy my daughter,” Saint John said.

“You can always refuse the bride-price, Mr. Granger,” Dumbledore said. “It will not negate the contract.”

Calliope shook her head. “And then after that? What about us?”

“That will be entirely up to you. There is no question that if you remain in England, your lives will be in danger. We will have to severely restrict your freedoms to better protect you. Otherwise, you can return to Australia under assumed names.”

“And you’ll steal our memories?”

“Lord Voldemort has spies abroad, and some of them can snatch thoughts straight from your mind,” Dumbledore said. “Miss Granger’s decision to obliviate you, while morally questionable, was undoubtedly brilliant tactically. Since you yourselves would not know who you were, there was no possibility of the Death Eaters finding out. If you wish to live to see your grandchildren, I would recommend following the course your daughter provided.”

Saint John looked around. “What about the rest of you?”

“We can defend ourselves magically,” Albert explained, “but even then again, we’ve accepted some limitations on our homes and families. However, if I or my wife are attacked, chances are we can apparate away. You cannot. We can magically shield ourselves and run. You cannot. In our world, sir, you and your wife are defenseless.”

Mr. Granger muttered but said nothing. Finally, though, he stood up. “Hermione, may I have a word with you alone?”

Hermione looked at the other girls, and nodded. She left with her chin held high as she and her parents left the room.

Daphne turned back to Harry. “You sure you know what you’re getting into?”

“Not even in the slightest,” Harry said.

“But we’ll take care of you, Harry,” Luna said. Susan nodded.

“Yes,” Daphne agreed. “I suppose we will at that. Hell, with four wives we might even be able to field our own quidditch team someday.”

\--

\--

When the Granger family came back in, Hermione and her mother both had red-rimmed eyes and the father looked flushed. However, he handed the parchment back to Dumbledore with their signatures. “Take us back to Australia,” he said in a flat tone of voice.

Dumbledore nodded to Professor McGonagall, who stood and escorted the Grangers out of the room. That act caused the other families to sign their contracts. With Dumbledore’s direction, Harry carefully counter-signed the contracts and watched as magical copies appeared for the brides’ families.

Albert and Stella Bones each gave their daughter a very long hug, then turned to Harry. “I’d tell you to take care of my little girl,” Albert said, “but you already have. You saved her life. You saved the life of my sister in law. I just can’t ever thank you enough. But it makes me sleep better, knowing she’s going to be with you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Harry said. He accepted a silent, tearful hug from Stella, and the two Boneses left. Amelia stayed, but Harry had his suspicions for that.

Xenophilius was next. “Well, when Celeste and I got married, she really enjoyed sex on the couch. I do believe that’s where Luna was conceived. You’ll let me know if it is a genetic thing or just a quirk of my wife.” And with that, the old wizard handed the signed contract to Dumbledore and walked out.

Before he left, Luna said, “Why just a couch?” but fortunately for everyone else her father did not hear.

That left Greengrass. Harry sensed that this man was not one to give hugs. Instead, he gave Harry a predatory grin. “Best of luck to you, my boy. You’re going to need it. With the Dark Lord, as well.”

Just like that, Harry and his four brides were alone with Dumbledore and the Minister.

“So, who wants to go first?” Amelia asked.

“It should be Hermione,” Luna said. “She’s his oldest friend.”

“As long as I’m last,” Greengrass said.

“Why?” Susan asked.

“Because by the time he gets to me, I want him to know what the hell he’s doing.”

Harry’s blush was sufficiently bright to warn off low-flying aircraft. “I don’t suppose Mr. Potter should have any say,” Dumbledore asked.

Harry violently shook his head. “No, thank you. I…uh…I think they should really decide this on their own.”

Four pairs of eyes stared at Harry. “What’s wrong, Harry?” Hermione said archly, “afraid of choosing?”

“Yes,” Harry admitted. “Very much so.”

“Does that mean you don’t love me more?” Luna asked, batting her eyes outrageously.

“I’m sexier,” Daphne declared.

“I’ve got the biggest boobs,” Susan declared.

“Will you show me?” Luna asked.

Harry looked as if he were about to cry.

“Girls, you’ve made your point,” Amelia said. She then turned archly to Harry. “Although Susan does have larger breasts.”

“Professor, we need to practice!” Harry suddenly declared. He darted forward, grabbed Dumbledore’s hand, and ran for the door.

“Cowards run away!” Hermione screamed at them.

“But generals retreat!” came Dumbledore’s fleeting reply.

The door slammed shut, and all four girls started laughing. After a few moments, though, they sobered. “This is going to be really hard,” Hermione said.

Susan and Daphne nodded; Luna merely shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be. You love him. I love him. Susan loves him. Daphne will once she gets to know him. And if not, she’s still very sexy. I have to agree with her there. Do you like kissing girls, Daphne?”

“Focus, girls,” Amelia said without batting an eye. She knew the Lovegoods. “You are on the verge of becoming some of the most powerful women in the wizarding world. That comes with a heavy responsibility. So, we need to get down to details. Who is going to get married first?”

Hermione looked at the other girls and flushed. “Um, I guess I would like to be first. Luna’s right, we have known each other the longest. But I don’t want to be…I don’t know, bossy.”

“Gryffindor was the leader,” Luna pointed out. “Of the four, he was the most powerful. It’s only right that you should be the head wife.”

“Head wife?” Hermione gaped. “Does that sound right?”

“I suppose you could be the elder wife,” Susan said. “You’re the oldest. You’ll be seventeen in September. You’re a few weeks older than me.”

“I’m not sure that sounds much better.”

“You were going to be head girl anyway, Granger,” Daphne said. “Might as well make it head wife.”

Hermione stared back at the Slytherin girl she had always viewed with envy and distrust. “You’re okay with that?”

“You can be head wife, I’ll be sexy wife. I can live with it.”

“Can I be the slutty wife?” Luna asked.

“Luna, do you really mean that?” Susan asked.

“She really does,” Hermione muttered.

“Hermione does not like girl kisses, sadly,” Luna said with a pout.

“And you do?” Daphne said.

“I like any kisses I can get,” Luna said with a bright smile. “Being lonely is ever such a bore. Do you like girl kisses?”

“I don’t know,” Daphne admitted.

“Find out later,” Amelia said firmly. “Preferably when the Minister of Magic is NOT playing chaperone. Now, Hermione will be first. Who’s second?”

“We should go in order of his tattoos,” Luna said. “Gryffindor first, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. Susan, Daphne, have you kissed his feet yet?”

“What?” Daphne asked.

“Harry bonded with the castle,” Hermione explained. She flushed. “It was a very interesting bonding. Anyway, the next day he had tattoos of the four houses. When Luna and I kissed the tattoos of our respective houses, it formed a…”

“A betrothal bond is the normal term,” Amelia said. “Albus told me.”

“It made me want to kiss Harry a lot,” Luna said. She flushed just from the memory.

Susan also blushed. “I’m not sure that would be such a good idea,” she said. “I already want to kiss him a lot. If it gets any worse…”

“I hear you,” Hermione muttered.

“Perhaps I should,” Daphne said. “I’m the outsider here. Seems like I have the weakest bond.”

“Make him wash his feet first,” Luna said.

“Definitely,” Daphne agreed.

“So we’re agreed on the order, then?” Amelia asked.

All four nodded. “Minister?” Hermione asked.

“Here, it’s Amelia.”

“Okay, Amelia, why is the Minister of Magic helping us?”

“The Minister of Magic is interested in the well being of four of the most powerful lines and votes on the Wizengamot. Each of you will have the authority to sit on your husband’s behalf if necessary. She is also very concerned for the well-being of a niece she loves like a daughter. Albus agreed that while my duties permit, I would be a good chaperone for you until the marriages are done. Minerva will also be serving as such.”

“So when?” Hermione asked.

“Tomorrow is Monday,” Amelia said. “I recommend we start having ceremonies on Tuesday. I think you can all agree that you should each have your own wedding night and your own ceremony.”

All four girls nodded. “Auntie,” Susan asked. She looked at the four girls, then down to her hands. “Will it…will he…do you…will it hurt?”

“It may at first,” Amelia said.

“But Harry will be gentle,” Luna said with a far off look.

“So gentle he’ll be lucky to finish the first time,” Hermione said.

Susan chuckled. “I bet you’re right.”

“All the more reason for me to be last,” Daphne said. “We’re really going to do this, aren’t we? All four of us are going to marry the same man. Are we going to have a rotating schedule or something?”

“In order of marriage?” Hermione asked.

“One house or separate houses?” Susan asked.

“He’s the richest man in England,” Luna pointed out. “He can just build one roof over four houses.”

“So what will our names be?” Susan suddenly asked.

“You’ll be Susan, Lady Hufflepuff,” Luna said.

“She’s right,” Amelia said. “You will, none of you, be known as Potter. You’re not marrying into the House of Potter. You are each marring a separate legal aspect of Harry, and by contract will take the last name of that aspect.”

Hermione, though, latched onto something the minister said. “Amelia, what do you mean, there will be no Mrs. Potter?”

“Harry Potter of House of Potter will not be marrying,” Amelia pointed out.

“What about the Blacks?” Hermione asked. “He was Sirius’s heir?”

“To property, but not by blood and magic,” Amelia said. “These marriages are very tricky, legally speaking. He’s only getting away with it because of some unique circumstances. The castle itself has essentially declared him five people. However, if he could marry a separate wife for each house he’s an heir of property too, he’d have a harem the size of Ravenclaw house. With the Four Founders, he is not just an heir, he is the sole heir of the blood and magic legacy of those lines. The same is not true for the Black line. That, for better or for worse, goes to Draco. However, since Harry inherited everything else, all Draco gets is the title and a second vote on the Wizengamot.”

Very slowly, Hermione turned around until she and Luna were staring at each other.

“What?” Susan said.

“There’s someone else,” Hermione said. “Someone who formed a bond with him before any of this happened, when he saved her life. Someone who has loved him from the moment she set eyes on him.”

“Ginny,” Luna said.

“Weasley?” Daphne said. She blew a strange of black hair from her eyes. “Because four just isn’t enough. right?”

“At least with five we’d have a good voting number,” Luna pointed out.

“Are you serious?” Susan asked.

Hermione nodded. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I am. We’ve all been thinking about the Four Founders, but what about the Potter family? Ginny has never wanted money or fame. She has, as far as I’ve known her, wanted nothing more than to be Mrs. Potter.”

The four girls looked at Amelia, who shrugged. “You can talk to her yourself. After the vote in the Wizengamot, I don’t have the energy to debate Molly Weasley.”

“Do you think Mr. Weasley could bring Ginny here?” Hermione asked.

“I’ll forward the request,” Amelia said. “In the meantime, I’m going to have Delina Fauxfelle drop by with some design suggestions for dresses. Because of the timing, these won’t be huge affairs, but they will be formal ceremonies nonetheless. And think about who you want to invite.”

 


	11. In Which Harry Meets His Fifth Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ginny Weasley haters fell to the floor frothing with rage.

Ron Weasley was not in a good mood.   

Ron did not consider himself the brightest wizard in the world, but he most assuredly did not consider himself stupid either.  Not until, that is, the Fourth Year, when he realized for the very first time that he liked Hermione Granger but that he didn’t have the guts to do anything about it. But then, a week ago, she kissed him, and for one beautiful second he dreamed about what could be; about how maybe she liked him as much as he liked her. 

The dream shattered abruptly. She did like him.  But no longer.  Now, she was Harry’s.  Everyone was Harry’s.  Harry this, Harry that.  Harry was the brave one.  The Triwizard Champion.  The special victim.  The first year starting Quidditch champion. 

 Ron kicked a rock, and then perked up when he heard an angry, “Ow!” 

He had been walking around the back of the Burrow aimlessly.  Approaching the pond he saw his sister sitting on the edge of the water.  “Sorry,” he said as he walked toward her.  He sat down beside her on the stone, since he had nowhere else to go, and on one else to talk to.  “Okay?” 

“Yeah.”  Her nose was runny and her eyes were red.  

“You were crying about _him_ again, weren’t you?” Ron snarled. 

“Ron, if you’re going to be a prat, please leave,” Ginny said. 

“I just don’t get it.  He gets everything his way!  Just for once, why can’t I get the girl?” 

“Everything his way?” Ginny asked, incredulously.  “Ron, when has he ever gotten things his way?  Name one time, not including Hermione, where he got his way?  One time!” 

Ron opened his mouth to start the list, but came up abruptly short.  “Er, yeah,” he finally said.   

“Besides, he’s not just getting Hermione.  Luna told me.  There’re four of them.  One for each of the Founder lines.” 

“Four girls?” 

“Wives, Ron.  He has to marry them.  They’re keeping it quiet, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they start having ceremonies in the next day or so.” 

“And that’s why you’re out here crying?” 

Ginny shrugged.  “I’m not going to apologize for the way I feel, Ron.  It wasn’t you who fought a basilisk for me.  He didn’t even really know me; he just did it because it was the right thing to do.  He almost died.  But he did it anyway.  He said, ‘Hi, Ginny,’ to me like it was just another day, and I wanted so very much to hug him.  But he’s not mine.  I realized he never would be mine.  But at least he’ll be happy.” 

“What about the rest of us?” Ron said glumly. 

“There’s always Lavender Brown.  I hear tell she likes you quite a lot.” 

Ron perked up.  “Really?” 

“Ginny!  Ronald!” 

The two stood and looked over the line of rocks to see their mother barreling out of the house.  “Come in, we’ve got an appointment at Hogwarts, and wedding invitations!” 

Ginny sniffed but forced a weak smile.  “See?” 

\--

\-- 

They flooed directly to the Headmaster’s office, but were met by Amelia Bones, of all people. 

“Minister,” Molly said breathlessly.  “What a pleasant surprise.  How are you?” 

“I’m fine, Molly.  And this must be Ginevra.  My, you are a beauty, aren’t you?” 

Ginny blushed and gave a little curtsy.  “Thank you, Minister.” 

“Amelia, please.  Mr. Weasley, I can see your father in you.  Another prefect—I’m sure he’s very proud of you.” 

“Oh, we are,” Molly said.  “Amelia, what’s this about?” 

“Miss Granger wanted a word with your daughter.  Ginny, they are in the first classroom to your right getting sized for dresses.  Please just go on in.  So, Molly, Arthur tells me that Bill….” 

Ginny dismissed the rest of the conversation as she left the office, went down the long stairs and into the first classroom on the right.  She stepped into a flurry of activity.  Measuring tape flew about like winged serpents attacking the four girls in the middle of the room at random.  Two older witches were busy with drafting pencils and paper in a corner while fabric gathered around them.   

The nearest girl to the door shouted, “Ginny!” and, ignoring the fact that she was in her knickers and bra, jumped down from the dais and ran across the room to wrap Ginny in a very intense and personal hug.   Then she leaned back and kissed Ginny square on the lips.  “Hmm,” Luna said with her eyes closed.  Ginny was too stunned to respond.  “You taste like strawberries.  Did you like being kissed by a girl?” 

Ginny stuttered as Hermione stepped forward, also in her knickers, and gave Ginny a much more comfortable hug.  “Ignore her, Ginny.  She’s been a bit flighty today.” 

“I’m going to get married in two days!” Luna exulted.  “Then I can have all the sex with Harry I want and make a beautiful baby!” 

Ginny stuttered again. Hermione led her to the two girls in the back of the room.  “Ginny, you’ve met Susan Bones.” 

“Hi, Ginny,” Susan said.  She stepped down and also hugged Ginny.  She held the red-head at arm’s length.  “You are beautiful, aren’t you?” 

“Thank you?” Ginny said weakly.   

“And this is Daphne Greengrass.” 

Like the others, Daphne wore only her knickers as she was thoroughly measured for her dress.  The difference was that her knickers were black and lacy and incredibly sexy.  They made Ginny blush just looking at them. “I’m not big on the hugging,” Daphne said.  “Slytherin thing, I guess.  You are pretty, though.  I can see why he likes you.”

  
“I don’t understand what’s happening,” Ginny asked.  “Why did you want to see me?” “We realized something today,” Hermione said.  “Something very important.  I’m going to be Hermione, Lady Gryffindor.” 

“I’m going to be Luna, Lady Ravenclaw.” 

“Susan, Lady Hufflepuff.”  
  
“Daphne, Lady Slytherin.” 

Luna stepped forward and stared Ginny in the face. “There’s a name missing.”  

“Potter,” Ginny breathed. All four girls nodded. 

“You’d actually be the junior wife,” Luna said.  “You are the youngest.” 

Ginny looked at all of them, then sat down abruptly.  “You’re talking about me getting married.” 

“And having sex,” Luna pointed out. 

“Let’s take a walk, girls,” Hermione suggested.  “Madame Fauxfelle, can we have a few minutes outside with our friend?” 

“Of course, dears.  I have all your measurements.” 

They quickly got dressed and stepped into the hall where they promptly headed for the courtyard.  “So, Ginny, let me ask you,” Hermione said.  “You love Harry, right?” 

“I do.  But Hermione, I’m only fourteen years old.” 

“Me too,” Luna pointed out. 

“I’m not sure I’m ready to get married.” 

“You and me both, sister,” Daphne said behind them. 

“I think it will be wonderful,” Susan said.  “I think he’ll be wonderful.” 

“I think he’ll be exhausted,” Daphne said.  “Old witches used to believe every time a man ejaculated he gave up a little bit of his life.  If that’s the case, with all five of us Harry will be lucky to see thirty.” 

Ginny blushed even further, and then she saw where they were taking her.   Harry and Dumbledore were practicing on the edge of the lake.  This time, they had Mad-Eye Moody and Kingsly Shacklebolt with them, and the sheer ferocity of the spells was stunning.  This was nothing like what she saw last year in the DA.  Harry moved so fast it seemed like he was dancing, or possessed.  Most of the spells fired at him missed entirely, or bounced against his shields back at the casters.   

“Harry’s power has boosted a lot since he bonded with the castle,” Hermione explained.  “He’s probably one of the most powerful wizards in England.  He’s going to be facing Voldemort some day.  But do you know what he’s afraid of?” 

“What?” Ginny whispered. 

“He’s afraid of hurting one of us.  Of making us jealous or unhappy.  Of not being a perfect husband.  I’ve had a lot of problems with this, Ginny.  A lot of problems.  But the one thing in all of this mess I can’t be angry with is Harry.  He is so full of love…” 

“…full of something at any rate…” Daphne muttered. 

Hermione glared. “He is so full of love, that I really think he’ll love us all.  He might have favorites, but this bond we have…I don’t feel jealous at the idea.  I know that the night after our wedding, he is going to marry Luna and they are going to sleep together.  After that Susan, and after that Daphne.  We’ve talked about it, and I think we’re all okay.  What I’m trying to say, Ginny, is that if you truly love him, and if you truly want to be with him, there’s room for a fifth.” 

Ginny felt like crying.  “But he loves you,” she whispered. 

“Yes, he does,” Hermione said.  “Do you really think that means he can’t love you as well?” 

“How will I know?” she asked. 

“Kiss him,” Luna said.  “Hermione and I felt it when we kissed his tattoos.  Susan and Daphne will feel it when they kiss his tattoos.  Why don’t you just try kissing his lips?” 

“I couldn’t….”

“Are you going to let him slip away forever without really trying?” Hermione asked.  “Go down there, Ginny, and just see.” She turned back to Daphne and Susan.  Both of them nodded. 

“Like Luna said,” Daphne pointed out, “it would give us a good odd-number for voting on things.  Like how to punish him when he’s naughty.” 

Ginny couldn’t help but giggle.  With her cheeks flushed, she started down the rocky path to the lake.   Moody saw her coming first, and motioned the others to stop. 

“Just as well,” the old auror panted.  “Need a break after that.  Weaslette, what are you doing here?  And why is that gaggle of girls up there?” 

“Hello, Professor,” she said.   

Mad-Eye purpled.  “I’ve told ya before, girl, I ain’t no…”   

He stopped when she walked right by him, past Dumbledore and Shacklebolt, until she stood before Harry.  “Harry, can I ask you something?” 

He nodded. 

She lurched forward, wrapped her arms around his neck, and locked her lips to his.  The resulting magical wave of energy knocked the three older men to their knees and rushed up the slope.   Wind blew the hair of the four girls watching. 

“Bloody hell,” Daphne said.  “What was that?” 

“A natural bond that needed no magical compulsion,” Hermione said.  “She loves him more than all of us.” 

“I don’t know,” Susan said, “I love him a lot.” 

“I just want to love him a lot,” Luna said. 

“Luna, girl, enough with the sex jokes,” Daphne muttered.  “I bet of all of us you’re the one who’s going to be crying on your wedding bed.” 

Luna looked stricken.  “Sorry.” 

“Oh Hecate,” Daphne muttered.  Reluctantly, she gave Luna a hug.  “There, better?” 

“A little.  A kiss might make it all better.” 

“Later.” 

“Promise?” 

On the lake side, Harry found himself on his knees, staring at the bundle of red hair and flaring magic.  “My god,” he whispered.  “Ginny?” 

“I have loved you since I saw you on the platform that time six years ago,” she said.  “You saved my life, and I loved you even more.  I’ve been waiting all this time for you to notice me.” 

“You were dating all those other boys,” Harry confessed.  “I…I didn’t think you liked me that much.”

"Because, Harry Potter, you’re an idiot.” 

He nodded.  “Yeah.” They kissed again.   

“I’m going to be sick,” Mad-Eye muttered.  “What man in his right mind wants more than one woman, much less five?” 

“Five wives,” Harry muttered.  He looked up to the hill and saw the other four standing there.  “Ginny, are you…”  
  
 “They called me, Harry.  They called me and told me the only person who wasn’t getting married was just plain Harry Potter.  All the Lords were getting wives, but not just plain Harry.  And that’s the only person I’ve ever wanted.  Just plain Harry.” 

Harry glanced over at Dumbledore, who stood with twinkling eyes.  Then he looked back down at this beautiful girl in his arms.  “Ginny Weasley, will you marry me?” 

“Yes!” Ginny said. 

“Will you marry me this Saturday?” 

“Yes!” 

“Think your mom’s going to kill me?” 

“Yes!”  She laughed wildly and kissed him again.  “Yes, yes, yes!” 

\--

\-- 

Molly sat up.  “What was that?” 

Amelia smiled.  “Molly, how do you feel about grandchildren?” 

“I love the idea,” Molly said.  “I’m not sure Fleur Delacour would have been my first choice for Bill, but she is lovely enough.  I’m sure their children will be very attractive.” 

Ron, however, in a rare flash of insight, sat down with a huff.  “She’s not talking ‘bout Bill, Mum.  She’s talking ‘bout Ginny.” 

“Ginny?  Ron, what are you trying to say?” 

The door to the Headmaster’s office swung open, and Dumbledore stepped in.  Right behind him came Harry Potter and a grouping of beautiful young girls.  They all seemed to be touching each other with painfully bright smiles.   Ginny was at their forefront.    She stopped when she saw her mother where she had left her, talking with Madam Bones.  Molly was staring at her in confusion; Ron was glaring. Harry, too, noticed Ron’s glare. 

“What is happening here?” Molly demanded. 

“Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said, “I asked Ginny to marry me.  And she said yes.” 

“What?”  The exclamation could be heard throughout the valley.  “Oh no, young man, you will not be marrying my fourteen-year-old daughter!  How dare you even ask!” 

“He asked because we suggested it,” Hermione said.  “All four of us agreed.” 

“Be that as it may, a group of girls who are themselves too young to marry have no business trying to talk another into it.  Albus, how could you permit such nonsense?” 

“Madame Weasley, in this matter I am truly out of my depth,” Dumbledore said.  “Miss Weasley appeared quite intent on achieving this result.  The moment they kissed, the bond was sealed.  I assume you felt it?” 

Molly paled.  “That was you?” she whispered. 

Ginny nodded.  “I love Harry, Mum.  I always have.” 

“She doesn’t have to get married with the rest of us, I suppose,” Luna said.  “She turns fifteen on August 11th. But if Harry fights Voldemort and loses, then the Potter line might be lost forever. That’s assuming of course that all of us conceive on our first try.” She grinned. “I rather hope I don’t.” 

Ginny stepped forward until she was an inch from her mother. “Mum, I know for a fact that you were fourteen the first time you slept with dad.” 

“That’s different,” Molly said weakly. 

“Yes, because I will be married. You weren’t. I AM going to do this. You WILL sign the marriage contract. You WILL accept the bride price Harry is giving to all the other parents. You WILL be happy, because if you don’t do these things, Mum, you won’t be a part of your grandchildren’s lives.” Molly gasped as if struck by the magnitude of her daughter’s threat. 

“Ginny, how could you say such a thing?” 

“It’s not easy,” Ginny said with a shudder and a sniff. “But you need to understand that I love him. When Hermione and the rest are up there getting married, I need to have my turn as well. I need to be a part of this. And as much as I love you, I will never forgive you if you try to stop me.” 

Everyone in the room stood in awe as the mighty Molly Weasley was brought low by her own daughter.  “But…” Molly finally said, “you don’t even have a dress.” 

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione said. “She will. And she’ll be beautiful.” The eldest of the betrothed stepped past Harry and Ginny and gave the Weasley matriarch a hug. “Think of it this way,” she said. “You’ve always considered Harry family. Now, we’ll all be family. And we are all going to have children. Children you can visit every day, if necessary.” 

A strange gleam came into Molly’s eyes. “Children?” 

“That is the point of these marriages,” Hermione said.  

In the back of the room, Daphne leaned over to Susan and said, “That girl is scary brilliant, you know? She should have been Slytherin.” 

Susan smiled. “Yeah. And now she’s our sister.”

 

****


	12. In Which Harry Gets Hitched Again and Again and Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And Albus pushes a bill through the Wizengamot.

“First, for new business,” the chief warlock of the Wizengamot announced. “It is with great pleasure that I announce the imminent wedding of one of our members. Harry Potter, Lord Gryffindor, has accepted a marriage contract with one Hermione Jean Granger of Gryffindor House for the bride price of ten thousand galleons, all of which was transferred to the Granger family in accordance with the ancient traditions. The wedding shall occur at two hours past noon this very day, to be officiated by the Minister of Magic in the Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy. If any member of this body should object, please do so now.”

“They are only children!” an old witch on the far pew said.

“Though Lord Gryffindor regretfully is absent today, I assure you by vote of this very same body, he is by law and tradition both an adult and Head of House. While it is true that Miss Granger shall not reach her majority for two more months, her parents consented to the contract as permitted by law. Are there any other objections?”

“Why marry on a Tuesday?” another asked. “Weddings should traditionally be held on Friday for the benefits of fertility.”

“I have it on the best authority that Lord Gryffindor’s schedule is quite full this week,” Dumbledore said. “Now, on to the Bill proposed by….”

\--

\--

“I hate you, Harry,” Ron said.

The two stood in Gryffindor Common room. Harry wore a finely tailored dress robe with a bowtie. Ron did as well, though his was rented and did not fit quite as well.

Harry looked over at his friend sadly. “I didn’t mean to steal her, Ron.”

“But you did anyway, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess I did.” Harry sat down on the sofa but the unlit fire and took a deep, shuddering breath. “I can’t believe I’m about to get married.”

Ron sat beside him. “You’re barmy, the whole lot of you.”

“I think you’re right.” Harry stared into the empty fireplace. “I’m a little scared.”

“Scared? Of what, getting the five prettiest girls in school?”

“Of making a mess of things,” Harry said. “I’m not even sixteen yet. What do I know about being married? And worse yet, I think every one of them’s smarter than me. I see them all talking together, and I feel like they’re ganging up on me. I love them, I really do, but they scare me.”

Ron snorted. “Yeah, real danger they are.”

“So, I guess this means you won’t be my best man?”

“You wanted me?”

“Ron, you’ve always been my best mate. You were the first friend I ever made here. I know you’re mad at me and all, but…I can’t think of anyone else I want by my side up there.”

“You know I had a thing for her.”

“Yeah, I know.” Harry looked back at the fire. “Lavender’s going to be there. I think we invited most of Gryffindor House. The Parvati Sisters are going to be there too. Maybe if you danced a little after…”

“I do look good in these dress robes,” Ron said.

“Better than those aweful things you wore at the Yule Ball,” Harry said.

Just then Neville came down, also in dress robes. The Neville who stood before them was not the same plump, shy boy they met six years ago. This Neville stood almost as tall as Ron and heavier, with muscles gained from hard work in the greenhouses. He had an air of confidence that was new as well.

“You ready, Harry?” Neville said.

“I got my best mates by my side,” Harry said. He looked back at Ron. “Right?”

Ron nodded. “Yeah, ‘guess so.”

“Then I’m ready.”

The three boys left the common room and walked through the halls of their school until they reached the great room. The house dining tables were gone, replaced by rows of single wooden chairs. The sky was an enchanting blue with a few traces of clouds. The floor was strewn with rose peddles.

Some members of the Wizengamot were in attendance, Harry noted. He was surprised by their robes of state, until he remembered he was a member as well. However, the majority of those in attendance were his friends and fellow Gryffindors. He saw Hagrid and Professor McGonagall there, as well as Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan and the rest. As he, Ron and Neville assumed their positions at the head of the aisle by the alter, he looked out over the faces of those there. He nodded respectfully to the Wizengamot members, smiled at his friends, and then fought the urge to fidget.

Somewhere bagpipes began to play a march. Harry felt his stomach clench when the doors opened and he caught his very first sight of Hermione in her dress.

Harry was originally expecting white, but when Hermione stepped into the room the light flashed off gold. Her dress was gold, with a long golden train of lace held up by Luna and Susan, in white bridesmaid dresses cinched around the middle with golden ribbons. The dress rose in a sheer line up to her waist, where it curved into a beautiful corset that tastefully covered her chest while at the same time accentuating it. Narrow, delicate straps of golden fabric rose over her shoulders, but otherwise left her arms and back bare.

She wore a veil of golden lace that blended so perfectly into the raining curls of her hair that it looked as if it were a part of her.

“She is beautiful,” Ron whispered.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. He could not take his eyes off her as she came to stand beside him. The two girls stepped to the side in matching formation with Neville and Ron.

He knew that Minister Bones was speaking. He knew he should be hearing the words, but all he could think of was just how lovely Hermione was. That his best friend was now going to be his wife. And that he would… “…promise to honor and love her, for the remainder of my days, sworn so by my magic.”

Magical wedding vows were as powerful as magical oaths, and everyone could feel the sincerity in Harry’s voice.

Hermione repeated her vows. Again, the minister’s words faded into a drone as the two stared at each other. Harry could feel the bond blooming in his chest like a warm fire. He felt the heat on his face and could see Hermione’s blush as well.

At Amelia’s gentle prompting, Harry lifted the veil. “My God,” he whispered, “you are so beautiful.”

“Shut up and kiss me,” she said with a grin. He obeyed, and the two seemed to lose each other for a very long time. Finally, when they parted for air, the minister spoke once again.

“Lords and Ladies, friends and family,” Amelia said, “it is my great honor and privilege to present to you Lord and Lady Gryffindor!”

The Wizengamot members applauded politely. The Gryffindor’s roared, screamed and stamped their approval.

The reception that evening was brilliant. Fred and George were unable to get away from their shop to attend the wedding, but they made the reception and handed out business cards and indoor firecrackers that made the party come alive.

Harry and Hermione were the first on the dance floor. As they held each other and swayed to the slow waltz, he felt Hermione sniffle. “I wish my parents were there,” she said.

“Me too,” Harry said. “Someday, when all this is over, we’ll have a private ceremony just for them.”

“I’d like that.”

“I love you, Hermione.”

“I love you too, Harry,” she said.

The party ended relatively early and by eight most of the guests were being escorted out by Hogwarts faculty and the contingent of aurors on duty because of the presence of the minister. Susan and Luna both gave Hermione long, lingering hugs before they retreated to their rooms.

Hermione and Harry retreated to their new home.

“Where are we?”

“I think it’s a new tower,” Harry said. “Hogwarts wanted us to have plenty of space.”

Their new home on the surface looked much like a common room for a dorm, but one lined in thick, luxurious rugs and tapestries celebrating all four of the school houses. There was a large fireplace in the center of the huge room. They could see a kitchen off to the right, and five doors. All the doors were unadorned save one that was marked with the Gryffindor crest.

“I suppose that’s for us,” Hermione said. She looked back over his shoulder, took his hand, and together they stepped through the door.

They emerged into another whole suite. “This place must have been magically enlarged,” Hermione said in awe. The suite consisted of a living area easily as large as the Gryffindor common room, a fully functional bathroom, a small kitchenette area, and what looked like four bedrooms. One of the rooms was empty. Still hand-in-hand, the newlyweds moved into the master bedroom, dominated by a massive four-poster bed. A tray stood before the bed with a bottle of wine and two crystal glasses.

A desk and work area took up one wall, and across from that was a luxurious bathroom and closet.

The closet was full of new clothes. “Harry, did you…”

“I asked Miss Fauxfelle to restock your wardrobe,” he explained.

She turned and kissed him until neither could breathe. “Harry, I want you to pour us glasses of wine,” she said. “I need to go change.”

Harry nodded and watched as she stepped into the bathroom. She turned to him as she closed the doors, and he found himself breathing fast under the intense look in her eyes. He stepped around to the wine bottle and stared. “Er, Dobby?”

The elf popped into the room. “Oh, great, powerful wizard Harry Potter asks for Dobby on this special day. Thank you so much. What can Dobby be doing for Harry Potter sir?”

“Er, do you know how to uncork a bottle of wine?”

With the questionable help of the flighty house elf, Harry got the bottle open and poured two glasses. He placed the glasses on the night stand nearest him, then sat on the edge of the luxurious bed and waited.

A few minutes later, the doors to the bathroom opened and Harry found it very difficult to breathe.

Hermione stood before him like an angel in white, only it was white he could see through. It was so very much like the gauze Hogwarts wore during their bonding that night after the ministry. He could see quite clearly that the only other article of clothing she had on underneath was a thin, tight pair of panties and a garter belt holding up white stockings.  Her breasts pushed the fabric out from her chest and he could see her nipples were already hard and pointed.

Harry could not speak. He could not find words.

Hermione crossed the floor until she stood right in front of him, looking down. She reached over and took the wine glasses and gave him one. Each took a very long sip, and each made a face. “Awful, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Harry muttered. “Hermione…”

“Touch me, Harry. You’re my husband now, and I need you to touch me.”

He reached up one hesitant hand. She took the hand in hers and pulled it under the gauze until it rested on the swell of her left breast. He fit so perfectly into the palm of his hand it seemed as if it was made for him alone. 

“You’re going to take your clothes off, Harry,” she said. “I’m going to help you. And then you’re going to take this off of me. And then we are going to make love until we fall asleep in each other’s arms.”

Harry managed to croak out, “Okay” just as her fingers started working on his robes. He finally had to stand as she started working on the buckle of his pants.  Neither noticed as the formal robes disappeared almost the moment they touched the floor.

As with everything, Hermione took charge, and Harry gave himself over to her gratefully. He lay there, astounded, as she explored every bit of his body with  her lips.  He never realized just how luscious those lips were.  He let her hands guide his as he lifted the gauze off her. As he undid the garters and rolled the stockings down her leg.

“I think it would be better if you kissed my leg as you do that,” Hermione instructed, and he obeyed, starting at the thick of her thigh and kissing down the length of her leg until her rolled the stocking off her foot.

They were both rank amateurs, but Hermione had one advantage he did not—she studied. With a furiously blushing Susan, an enthralled Luna and a curious Daphne, Hermione had managed to obtain a series of rather naughty pensieve memories specifically for witches on their wedding nights.

She shared her expertise, and Harry accepted it with enthusiasm.  Not only did she encourage him to explore the mystery of her maidenhood, she actually leaned up and touched herself exactly where she wanted his attention.  Harry, every the attentive student, did exactly as he was told.  The taste of her was salty and musky and incredible.  He ran the tip of his tongue around the nub of her clitoris, eliciting happy cries from her.  Her moans were more than sufficient to cause him to become hard as a rock. When she flipped him onto his back, she played with that erection, taking his shaft in her hands and studied it intensely. 

“Harry, what does it feel like when I do this?”  She then placed her lips around the head of his penis.

Harry did his very best to answer, but where he meant to say, “Hermione, love, it feels absolutely marvelous,” instead he made a sound closer to, “Geeerrrruhhhh.”

She smiled up at him, her lips still resting gently on his penis.  Her hair flared around her, bereft of the magic and the pins that kept it in place during the wedding.  He could see the pale white swells of her beautiful ass, and the gentle curve of her back.  She was propped up on him, and he could feel her breasts pressing against his legs.  It was the single most beautiful thing he had ever experienced in his life.

He had no words, but she could see it in his eyes.  “Do you like this?” she whispered with a mischievous glint.  Her lips once again surrounded his crown, then more as she took most of his length in her mouth.

He nodded mutely, fighting not to explode.  “Hermione,” he managed to gasp.  “I need you.  Now.”

She bobbed her head twice, bringing him almost to the edge as he felt her touch playing along the bottom of his shaft.  Then she released him and stood up on her knees before him.  Her stomach was flat, her breasts were pert and full.  The auburn triangle of her sex glistened with both her own eagerness and his oral ministrations. 

She slowly lifted one leg over him, brushing the lips of her labia against his thigh, until she was poised directly over him.  The hair of her pubis tickled the crown of his penis.  “Hermione?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“Don’t let me hurt you. Don’t let me ever do anything that would hurt you. I love you too much.”

“I know, Harry,” she said. She reached down and guided his penis to the opening of her sex.  Having nothing more than fantasies and the hazy memory of his bonding with Hogwarts, he thought her vaginal openning a little lower on her than he thought it would be.  And then she sank onto him.  She felt the blockage and winced, even as she allowed more of her weight to press down. It did hurt, just as she knew it would, but it was a strangely temporary pain. As Harry pushed up deeply within her, she felt a wave of warmth, just like when he hugged her after the ministry, and the pain was simply gone.

They developed a faltering, hesitant rhythm. She looked down at him, and he looked back up at her with parted lips and an amazed expression. “I’m so glad you were first,” he whispered. “You were always first.”

She smiled as she guided his hands to her breasts.  She straightened until she straddled him, and bucked gently as he held her soft mounds.  She could see the bright flush run from his cheeks down to his chest, and knew she was equally flushed as a wave of intense pleasure ran through her. 

Harry’s hands drifted down from her breasts to her hips and gripped the flesh there, even as his thrusts into her grew more powerful and even deeper.  He arched his back as he pushed into her.   She laughed in joy and he groaned in pleasure as they consummated their marriage.

After, laying by his side and running a finger lazily over the light down hair on his chest, Hermione heard a voice whisper, “Well done, Lady Gryffindor.”

She propped herself up on her elbow. “Harry, did you hear something?”

“It was Hogwarts,” he said. “I guess she knew you had to be first as well.” He rolled onto his side and took a breast into his mouth. “It couldn’t have been anyone else.”

\--

\--

“Good morning, I hope everyone is having a pleasant Wednesday,” the chief warlock of the Wizengamot announced. “First, with new business, it is with great pleasure that I announce the imminent wedding of one of our members. Harry Potter, Lord Ravenclaw, has accepted a marriage contract with one Luna Lovegood, a pureblood witch of Ravenclaw House for the Bride Price of ten thousand galleons, all of which we transferred to the Mr. Lovegood in accordance with the ancient traditions. The wedding shall occur at two hours past noon this very day, to be officiated by the Minister of Magic in the Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy. If any member of this body should object, please do so now.”

“Albus, old boy, Potter just got married, he can’t marry again!” It was the same witch who objected the previous day.

“As a matter of clarification, Agnes, Lord Gryffindor married yesterday. Today, it is with great happiness that Lord Ravenclaw is to marry.”

“They are the same person!”

“It might seem so, Agnes. However, legally Gryffindor and Ravenclaw are quite different. For instance, I understand Lord Gryffindor is a seeker on the Gryffindor House team, while Lord Ravenclaw does not play quidditch for the Ravenclaw house at all.”

Agnes sputtered.

“Now, back to the Bill proposed yesterday by….”

\--

\--

“I feel like déjà vu,” Ron said as he and Harry sat in the common room of Gryffindor House.

“Seems like it, doesn’t it?” Harry said.

Neville came down in his dress robes. “You guys ready? How does married life feel, Harry?”

“Ruddy brilliant.”

“He says that now,” Ron muttered. “Just wait till he has all those wives pestering him.”

“Yeah, it must be real hard,” Neville said. “Hey, did you guys see what Hannah Abbot was wearing yesterday?”

“She looked very beautiful,” Harry lied. He had no idea Hanna was even there. He had eyes for only one woman last night.

“I noticed Lavender’s dress too,” Neville said.

Ron blushed. “Yeah, that was a nice dress.”

“Didn’t know they made dresses with bodice lines that low.”

“Almost see her navel, I could,” Ron said. “She is pretty.”

Harry tried to hide a smile as his two friends discussed other girls. Once more, the great hall was enchanted to show a beautiful summer sky. Once more chairs lined either side of a red carpet strewn with rose pedals. Once again, several members of the Wizengamot attended. In fact, more were there today than the previous day.

On the other side sat much of the Ravenclaw house, with Professor Flitwick at the head. Harry spotted Cho Change watching him with a furious blush.

Surprisingly, it didn’t matter to him. He found it refreshing that he didn’t care any more.

The pipe music started, and the doors opened. Harry saw a sparkling star approach. Luna was clad in a cascading, strapless silver gown. She looked nearly ethereal as she marched up the path with Hermione and Susan Bones holding her long silver train. Her veil was also of silver, and she carried white lilies in a bouquet before her.

She looked so fragile, and yet at the same time untouchably beautiful.

He smiled at her with feeling, and saw two points of color in her cheeks. Once again, his best mates stood on one side, while Hermione and Susan stood opposite. Hermione wore one of the light blue bridesmaid dresses, but with a sash over one shoulder bearing the Gryffindor seal.

One again they spoke the vows of joining, and once again Harry lifted the veil and kissed her. “I do love you, Luna,” he whispered into her ear.

“And I love you, Harry,” she whispered back.

They danced that night arm in arm. Luna was a surprisingly good dancer, and after all the instructions he received for the Yule Ball during his fourth year, Harry was not bad himself. They ate and danced, and when the party ended, he led her back to their suite. Hermione was there waiting for them.

“Are you going to join us?” Luna asked brightly.

Hermione grinned. “Not tonight.” She took the newly wed into a long, deep hug. “You’re my sister now, Luna. The first I’ve ever had. I love you just like I love Harry. If you need anything, come to me.”

Luna nodded. Harry leaned forward, hugged Hermione, and then gave her a long, lingering kiss. “I love you,” he said. “Thank you for doing this.”

Hermione nodded. “Now go in there. I’ll be with Susan tonight.”

The newly weds entered the Ravenclaw suite. Harry was not surprised to find it similar to the Gryffindor suite. He led Luna to the bedroom where the wine was waiting.

“Wait here,” Luna instructed as she slipped into the bathroom. This time, Harry was able to uncork the bottle without assistance.

He had a glass waiting when Luna came out wearing a corset that just barely covered her chest, and left her long, lean legs bare. She walked up to him with a serious expression, and then took a glass from his hand and drowned the wine in one unbroken drink.

“Wow,” Harry said.

“Do you like wine?” she asked.

“Not really.”

She took the second glass and drank every drop. Then she leaned into Harry, and started crying. Confused and alarmed, Harry lifted her into his lap. It was surprising how easy it was to lift her. Eventually, he scooted down until he could lean against the pillows and hold her. She cried for another few minutes before she stopped and wiped her nose.

“Daphne was right,” Luna said. “I did cry on my wedding bed.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m scared.” She looked up at him with her silver-grey eyes. “I’ve never even kissed anyone before I kissed you. The only other boy interested in me tried to touch me when I didn’t want him too. I’m scared. Hermione said it only hurt for a second before you healed her, but I just… I’m so sorry.”

Harry made a decision then. He gently placed her flat on the bed, and took his robes off.

“What are you doing?” Luna asked with a hiccup.

“We don’t have to do anything tonight, Luna,” Harry said. “We don’t have to do anything ever, until you’re comfortable. Marriage isn’t just about sex; it’s about love and friendship. I love you, and I consider you my friend. I want you to be comfortable around me. No secrets. So I’m going to take all my clothes off. You can stay dressed as you are, and you can decide for yourself if you want to do anything or not. If not, we can just talk.”

And under Luna’s amazed, widened eyes, Harry stripped naked with a confidence he did not have until the previous night, and then climbed back onto the bed covers. He did not even try to cover himself, though he was blushing so furiously it actually went down his surprisingly muscular chest. Luna sat frozen for the longest time before a delicate pale finger touched his shoulders.

“You can touch me, Luna,” Harry said. “I’m your husband. I’m yours. Get to know your property.”

“Property,” Luna said with a snicker. “You are very beautiful, Harry. I know boys like to be called handsome, and you are. But you are beautiful. You look very nice, but inside you, the Harry who was nice to me shines very brightly. That’s what I fell in love with.”

“And that Harry loves you, Luna. I trust you completely. I’m yours, to do with as you please.”

It was a long, beautiful night. Luna touched him over his whole body.  Not caresses, rather light feathery touches.  She was hesitant, at first, until she discovered he was ticklish. She leaned over, tickling him, when he started tickling back.

She realized though that her corset provided unfair shielding. She paused, and with a raging blush and a refusal at first to meet his eyes, she took off the corset.  Unlike Hermione, Luna’s breasts were actually small, so much so that when she laid flat they were little more than rises in her chest.  He could feel her embarrassment at what she considered her undeveloped chest.  The embarrassment disappeared as Harry took advantage of the opening and mercilessly tickled her ribs and her stomach.

He then introduced her to something he himself had never experienced, but had seen on television. He blew a raspberry into her stomach and caused her to laugh so hard her legs flailed into the air.  He moved higher, blowing raspberries in the center of her chest, and then onto her petite breasts.  She was laughing so hard, she didn’t notice at first until a raspberry suddenly reversed itself and she looked down to find this beautiful boy suckling her breast.

“Do you…do you like that, Harry?” she whispered.

He grinned up at her, pulling her nipple just the tiniest amount before released it.  “You’re beautiful, Luna,” he assured her.  Then, before she had a chance to speak, he rolled into a tactically sound position and blew another monster raspberry into her stomach.  Luna collapsed in laughter once again, not noticing how the raspberries went lower and lower.  And once again, suddenly she felt something indescribable.  She propped herself up on her elbow and found Harry’s face between her legs, with his nose inch from her silver panties. 

He kept his eyes on hers as he quite deliberately stuck out his tongue and slowly ran it up the center of her panties, pressing against the delicate flesh below.

“Harry!” Luna gasped, surprised that he would do such a thing and amazed at how wonderful it felt. 

He slowly pulled the sheer, thin fabric aside to expose the silver-blonde down of her sex.  Unlike Hermione’s mound, Luna’s public hair was so fine as to almost be invisible, and he could see the tight folders of her virgin flesh.  He looked up and saw her staring back down, wide-eyed and with parted lips.  “Harry?” she whispered.

Slowly, once again, he stuck out his tongue until it touched the base of her labia, and then slowly ran it up between the lips her sex until he reached the point where Hermione assured him he should stop and concentrate on.  Her clitoris was smaller than Hermione’s, but as he explored it with the tip of his tongue, he realized it was just as sensitive.

Luna fell back and moaned with her eyes closed.  The sound was like an electric shock for Harry, causing ever muscle to tense and for his manhood to become rock hard.  He reached up with both hands around her thighs and pulled the delicate strings of her panties.  She lifted her hips without a word to allow him to remove the offending article.  When it was gone her legs came back down over his shoulders, pressing her thin, shapely thighs against his ears as he licked her again and again. 

She started bucking against him and reached down with both hands to his head, as if to press his face in deeper all the while moaning in pleasure.  The bucking turned into a prolonged shudder as her very first orgasm rocked her body.  When at last the most intense part of it faded, Harry pulled out from the valley of her sex and ran a tongue up from below her navel to her breasts, and finally to her neck, nuzzling her. 

Only after that did he looked down at her.  “I think I’m ready,” she said then.

And she was.

_ _

_ _

“…a pleasant Thursday. First, with new business, it is with great pleasure that I announce the imminent wedding of one of our members. Harry Potter, Lord Hufflepuff, has accepted a marriage contract with one Susan Bones, a pureblood witch of Hufflepuff and the niece of our own Minister of Magic, Amelia Bones. A Bride Price of ten thousand galleons was transferred to Miss Bone’s parents in accordance with the ancient traditions. The wedding shall occur at two hours past noon this very day, to be officiated by the Minister of Magic in the Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy. If any member of this body should object, please do so now. Agnes, would you like to start?”

“Albus, I can think of nothing to say,” the old witch said.

“It is indeed a glorious day,” Dumbledore said.

“I have something to say,” said Augustus Hilldale. “Minister Bones, were you aware of a pending relationship between Susan Bones and Lord Hufflepuff when you supported his request for emancipation? Or when you received his vote? Did you trade favors for him in return for his votes?”

Amelia stood. “He saved her life, just as he saved mine. These were not favors, but acts of heroism. He did not owe me votes, I owed him my life. As for his relationship with Susan, that was between Lord Hufflepuff and her parents.”

“This strikes me as wholly inappropriate,” Hilldale declared. “Perhaps we need to review the votes and reconsider the validity of Mr. Potter participating in the election.”

“You could do that,” Dumbledore said. “But then you would make an enemy of the Heir of the Four Founders, Lord Hilldale.”

“I am not afraid of a teen-aged boy.”

“And yet Lord Voldemort is,” Dumbledore said. “I wonder what the Dark Lord knows that you do not? So, any other objections? No? Excellent. Now, let’s return once again to this most interminable bill we have been discussing…”

\--

\--

“So you really sleep with ‘em both?” Neville asked.

Harry nodded and had the good grace to blush. “Not much sleeping, truth be told.”

“What was it like?”

“Incredible,” Harry said.

“You really love them?” Ron asked.

Harry nodded. “More than anything.”

“Ready to do it again?” Amelia asked.

Harry looked up at the minister and nodded. “I’ll take good care of her. We all will.”

“I know, Harry,” Amelia said. “I’d never permit this otherwise. Look now, here she comes.”

Harry turned, and once more found himself staring at a being of pure beauty.

Susan wore white. Pure, virgin white. It accentuated the creamy swell of her bosom and the blush in her cheeks. Her blonde hair flowed like water from underneath the white veil. Brilliant red roses in the bouquet called attention back her porcelain face.

Her father met her at the head of the aisle, while behind her Luna and Hermione carried her long white train. Hermione wore her Gryffindor sash, while Luna now wore the silver sash of Ravenclaw.

The two stared into each other’s eyes throughout the ceremony. As he lifted her veil and kissed her, she whispered to him, “I don’t ask that you love me any more, Harry, only that you love me just as much.”

“Just as much and more,” he whispered.

Susan wasn’t quite as good a dancer as Luna, but she felt very good in his arms. After the party, Hermione and Luna waited for them inside their suite. Each gave Susan a lingering hug that left the newly wed on the edge of tears.

“Thank you so much,” she said to them. “I love you all.”

“And we all love you,” Hermione assured her.

They walked to the newly marked door for Hufflepuff on the other side of the room. Susan gave him a long, lingering kiss before going into the bathroom. Harry went for the wine. This time, he downed a glass before pouring a second for himself and one for Susan.

She emerged wearing revealing pink lingerie that truly accentuated her best assets. She was flushing as bright as what she was wearing. “What do you think?” she asked shyly. “I’ve never owned anything like this before.”

“I think they’re…I mean, I think it’s beautiful” Harry said as he handed her the glass.  And she was.  Her stomach wasn’t as flat as either Luna’s or Hermione’s.  It was rounded just a little, giving way before the flare of her beautiful, shapely hips.  Her breasts were truly large, not just for her age but for any way, and the negligee barely contained them.

She drank the wine more sedately than Luna, but still finished it quickly. “Harry,” she said, “take your shoes and socks off.”

He did as she asked and lay back onto the bed. She climbed on at the other end and sat looking down at the tops of his feet. “You really do have the tattoo,” she said. She leaned over his feet, spilling out of her pink nightie as she did so, and brushed her lips against the tattoo.

Harry’s body responded instantly, aching to be loosed from his pants. 

Susan’s reaction was even more powerful.  He watched as her entire body convulsed and quivered with the power of it. “My God!” she cried.  She jumped off the bed entirely, eyes wide while a brilliant blush raged down the whole length of her body.  Harry stared back, a little worried.

Suddenly she ripped the lingerie off with a half-articulated growl.  “Fuck me!” she screamed as she jumped on him.  She rolled them both onto the center of the bed and spread her eyes so wide her ankles rested on the bed covers.  He stared down at her swollen, glistening labia, projected out because of her position.  “I want you inside of me now!” she cried. 

Harry had a difficult time remove his clothes, so much so he reverted to a wordless, wandless banishing charm.  Susan waited virtually glowing with heat and growling with her need.  When at last he was naked he positioned himself on his knees before him, placed his grown against her labia, and looked her in the eyes.

“Do it,” she begged.  “I need you.”

He pushed inside.  She sucked in a breath as he pierced her barrier, but the pain lasted only a second.  He continued into her until he ground against her, their public hairs interlocking like so much muggle Velcro.

“Yes,” she whispered.  “Pound me, Harry.  I want to feel you cum in me.  Pound into me.”

It was a completely different experience from either Hermione and Luna, but just as glorious.  Where Hermione was deliberate and exploratory, and Luna was gentle and delicate, Susan was passionate and wild.  She thrust up  with her hips with every one of his thrusts, creating a slamming sound of flesh on flesh with increasing rhythm.  She finally brought her legs together, positioning her ankles be his needs and pushing her bum out to meet his thighs. 

“Faster, Harry!” she insisted.  He went faster as he felt the pressure build up in the base of his balls. 

Suddenly her legs went rigid and her chest almost glowed with light.  She did not moan, she screamed in ecstasy.  “Cum now, harry!  Cum now!”  As if her word as the catalyst, Harry exploded within her, grunting at the incredible release. 

He stayed within her for several moments as the two caught their breaths.  “My god,” she finally whispered.  “Harry, that was so good!”

“For you and me both,” he whispered.  He fell down onto the bed beside her.  Almost immediately she rolled on top of him.  Her eyes were bright as she leaned down until her large breasts bounced just over his lips.

“Things have been a pain to me since I was fourteen years old,” she said as he took first one, and then the other in his mouth.  “Do you like them.”

“Gods yes,” he said, finally resorting to his hands to take each so he could bury his face between them.  Lower, she could feel his manhood begin to stiffen.

“Already?” she whispered, surprised.

“Already,” he said from between her breasts.

“I want more,” she said.

“So do I.” 

She reached down and with only a little maneuvering he slid into her ready opening.  There was no further speech, then.  She did not gently rock like Hermione.  She remained bent over so her breasts bounced against his face with the metronome of her body.  She slammed into his sex like a hammer, again and again.  The moans seemed ripped from her, and he could feel through the bond as she experienced orgasm after orgasm, almost from the moment they began.  The feeling her pleasure pouring through the bond increased his own, until all too soon he came again, and they paused for a break.

After only a few minutes, she reached down a hand and grasped a full erection.  “I want more,” she whispered.

“As much as you like,” Harry vowed.

\--

\--

“First, for new business…”

“Albus,” Agnes said, “I do not want to hear anything more about Mr. Potter getting married. Enough. It has taken on the air of a bad joke.”

“Very well, Agnes. You shan’t hear it.”

“Albus?”

“Yes?”

“What are you doing?”

“I am announcing the imminent marriage of Harry Potter, Lord Slytherin, with Daphne Greegrass, a pureblood witch of an ancient and honorable family, to be celebrated this very day at two o’clock. I was, however, speaking very quietly out of respect for your wishes.”

“You’re serious? This young man is actually marrying four brides?”

“Mr. Potter is the envy of the school, and a source of great pity for married men across the land,” Albus said. “Now, if there are no objections, I begin so see some light at the end of this pesky bill.”

\--

\--

“You look tired, Harry,” Neville said.

“You have no idea.”

“Was it bad?”

Harry mutely shook his head.

“But she’s a Hufflepuff!” Ron said.

Neville chuckled. “You’ve obviously never snogged a Hufflepuff girl before.”

“Oy, like you have. Wait, you mean…”

“Hannah was really moved by the ceremony,” Neville said with a satisfied grin on his face.

“You dog!” Ron said.

“Ron, Lavender Brown almost took your face of yesterday,” Harry said. He wasn’t so far gone to have missed THAT particular scene.

“Er, yeah. It’s time to go, right?”

This ceremony, however, was completely different than any of the others. For one thing, the whole school was crawling with aurors. Almost half the Wizengamot was in attendance as well. Most surprisingly, though, was the presence of Professor Severus Snape and much of Slytherin house.

Draco Malfoy sat in the front seat and glared as Harry, Ron and Neville walked up the aisle.

It was not Amelia Bones doing the ceremony this time, but instead an ancient, withered warlock with one white-eye and a large knife hanging from his belt. His robes were black.

The doors opened and Daphne stepped forward with her father by her side. She wore a stunning dress of deep Slytherin green, strapless and backless, but with long black lace gloves that rose past her elbows. Her raven-black hair hung in delicate curls around her cheeks and neck, and her eyes were obscured by a black lace veil.

Her father led her opposite of Harry. After them came Hermione, Luna and Susan deep crimson dresses, all wearing sashes with their respective crests.

When everyone was in position, Antonius Greengrass intoned, “I present a girl of my loins, a virgin of marriageable age, pure in lineage and powerful in magic. In return for honors and a bride price of great worth, I give this child to Lord Slytherin in marriage, for her to obey and honor him, to bear his line and uphold the traditions and honors of the name. This I say on my magic.”

He bowed to the old priest and sat down with the other Slytherins.

“As taught us by the ancient sorcerer Hesiod, the great virginal goddess Hecate shall bless this union with fecundity, so long as the vows are made with pure heart and flowing blood. Lord Slytherin, your hand!”

Harry took a deep, calming breath and held out his hand. He looked deep into the blue eyes of Daphne. He did not smile, and neither did she. The old priest removed the knife, and with a single swift stroke opened a cut on Harry’s palm.

He fought not to wince—even expecting it, the cut hurt.

“Daphne Greengrass, of House Greengrass, your hand!”

Daphne lifted her wand hand, and the cut was repeated.

“Let the blood mingle!” the old priest intoned.

They placed their hands together. The priest then removed a small gold chalice from his belt and held it under their hands as the blood dripped down. He waved his wand over the blood and whispered an ancient Greek incantation. The room filled with shadows and dark, dark magic, only to instantly be washed away with a brilliant white.

“In the times of the Christians,” the priest said, “Hecate was spoken of with fear. But she was never a goddess of darkness. Ours is not the triplicate Hecate of Athens, but the pure mother goddess of Mycenae. And in this union, she is pleased and gives her blessing. With the mingling of the blood and the blessings of the Goddess, I declare you to be Lord and Lady Slytherin!”

“What, no kiss?” Harry muttered.

“Oh, don’t worry, it’ll come,” Daphne promised.

The party afterward was strangely muted, possibly because of all the Slytherins. At one point, Snape accosted Harry. “I suppose I should have known,” the potions professor said. “Not enough to be the Heir, you had to be different and take four brides. This will not end well for you, Potter.”

“Probably not,” Harry agreed. “But if it doesn’t end well for me, imagine how it will end for you.” He looked around the room. “I found out that Daphne was assaulted by Goyle last year. We’re taking steps to protect her sister out starting this year. I know that you’re a spy, Professor. I know you’re doing your best to pacify both sides. But I’ve learned some things about Slytherin himself this summer. And about his son, the Bloody Baron.’

Snapes eyes widened at that bit of news.

“What I’m trying to say is that Lord Slytherin will not be pleased if any further assaults occur within his house.”

“His house?”

“Try to keep me out and see what happens,” Harry said coldly. “Hogwart will tell me if any student is assaulted like that, and I will be there in an instant. There won’t be any expulsions, Professor. But there will be punishment. Tell that to your students. Lord Slytherin has a lot of vile history to atone for.” Harry turned away, but paused. “One more thing, Professor. I…some of the memories I’ve gained from Slytherin have made me feel sullied, but some I think could be of particular use. Especially of his research into protean charms. If you ever decide to openly declare for the light, I might be able to do something about that unfortunate tattoo of yours.”

Snape stared, for once caught without any smart reply.

The party ended earlier than usual, but much to the relief of all it ended peacefully. Harry and Daphne retreated to their suite where the other girls waited. One by one, they welcomed Daphne with hugs. The Slytherin girl accepted them with grace, and then showed them her hand. “It’s already healed. You did that, Potter?”

Harry shrugged. “I didn’t even mean to.”

“It comes in handy later,” Hermione assured her.

“I’ll bet,” Daphne said. She grabbed Harry by the tie. “Well come on, Potter, let’s get this over with.”

When the door closed behind them, Luna giggled. “I like her.”

Inside, Daphne didn’t even bother with the bathroom. “Real women don’t need to switch,” she said. She sat him down on the bed. “Help me get all this off.”

So he rolled off her long gloves, kissing her arm as he went.

“Hmm,” she said with a languid smile as he started working on the second arm, “looks like they trained you well.”

Before he went any further, she reached into her bodice and removed a vial. “Drink this.”

Harry eyed it warily. “What is it?”

“This is your fourth wedding night in as many days. What do you think it is?”

“Pepper-up potion?”

She nodded as she shrugged completely out of her dress, and all the lacy lingerie underneath it. As beautiful as all the girls were, she really was the sexiest.

Harry put the potion aside. “I don’t need it,” he said.

“It’s your body. No, strike that, it’s my body. At least for tonight. Now get naked, Potter, and show me that tattoo.”

When this task was accomplished, this beautiful raven-haired beauty gently took his foot in her hand and brought the tattoo to her lips. She gave it a full kiss, and the shock of their bond instantly snapped into place, rocking both of them.

“Susan was right,” she muttered.  “She said the moment she kissed your foot you started shagging like bunnies all night.”

“Just about,” Harry confirmed. 

“Hermione and Luna both said you did other things for them first.”

He nodded.  “That was fun too.”

She slowly, deliberately began undoing the strings of her corset.  She pulled it away, revealing perfectly round, pert breasts tipped by pink nubs just crying for Harry’s lips.  Just as deliberately she undid her garters and pulled down her stockings, and then finally her panties.  Her public hair was as black as her raven locks, but shorn close and into a perfect circle just above the folds of her sex. 

She stood before him, and whispered, “I want you to taste me.”

Harry found his mouth already watering with the desire.  He felt to his needs and leaned forward until his lips were on her clitoris, and his tongue buried in the folds of her.  He felt her hands on his head, and smiled as she pushed her bum out and spread her legs just the slightest amount to ease his access.  “Harry,” she whispered as he buried his face into her. 

Her orgasm shook them both, it came so strong.  With gentle pulls she guided him back to his feet before she kissed his wet, salty lips.  “Harry,” she whispered, “I’ve always had a fantasy.  I want my first time to be like that.”

“Tell me.”

She slipped around him until she stood next to the bed.  She placed both hands on the covers and leaned over.   Her beautiful, perfectly shaped ass hung ready and inviting.  “Take me from behind, Harry,” she whispered. 

He pushed against her, his shaft rubbing against her enlarged, inviting labia.  “I’ve not done it like this,” he admitted.

“Me neither.”  She reached down between her own legs until she felt his shaft, and then positioned it until he slid into her.  She stiffened at first, but once against the warm power of his healing touch washed over her.  “Yes,” she whispered as at last he was able to slide into her without pain.

“Now, Harry,” she said.  “I don’t want to make gentle love.  I want you to grab my hips and shag me like there’s no tomorrow.” 

His palms fit over her hips and he pushed into her.  She lifted up on her tip-toes even as she leaned her head down on the cover.  The whole world distilled down to his shaft driving into her ass.  It was the pure physical, and he let it drive him as he grabbed onto her and pounded into her body for all he was worth.

She groaned and cried out, and once again he could feel her orgasm, then orgasm again and again.  He groaned himself as he exploded inside her.  Finally, spent, the two collapsed on the bed.  He did not pull out of her, though, and she did not want him to.

“As good as your fantasies?”

“I don’t know,” Daphne said.  “That was just the beginning.”

\--

\--

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for attending this special weekend meeting of the Wizengamot. I believe that we are finally ready for a vote on the bill.”

“You mean you don’t want to talk about Harry Potter getting married any more?” Agnes asked.

“Not at this time,” Dumbledore said. “Why, did you want to talk about him?”

“No, for Merlin’s sake! Let’s get this blasted bill done.”

The bill passed after a week of negotiations and revisions. “Ladies and gentlemen, very well done! The bill is passed! And now that that time is done, I would like to mention that Harry Potter is going to marry Ginny Weasley this afternoon in a private ceremony at Hogwarts. Thank you.”

As the members of the Wizengamot stared in shock, Albus Dumbledore quickly departed from the chamber.

\--

\--

“So Daphne?”

“Yeah,” Harry sighed.

“Is any one of them any better than the others?”

Harry shrugged. “They were all wonderful.”

“Sounds like a cop out,” Ron said.

“Sounds like he’s learning wisdom,” Neville countered.

“And my little sister is next,” Ron said. He looked at Harry. “Look, mate, I know we’ve had problems of late. But….well… if you…don’t hurt her, Harry. Please don’t hurt my sister.”

“I could not more hurt her than I could hurt myself,” Harry said. “I promise you that, Ron, as your friend and your brother. I love her, and I will always care for her.”

Ron nodded. “Okay, let’s go get you hitched. Again.”

Almost all the Gryffindors were in attendance again, this time accompanied by all the Weasleys. Ginny must have had words with her older brothers. Bill and Charlie were stone-faced, but they weren’t hexing Harry yet. Once more Amelia Bones served as their minister, and he turned to wait expectantly as the doors opened. Ginny Weasley stood in a pearl dress lined in an intricate web of lace. She carried dark-red roses against her bosom. Arrayed behind her were her four soon-to-be sister wives, all resplendent in crimson dresses, each decorated with their house sash.

Arthur Weasley stood nearby, watching his little girl march up the aisle. He had no final words for his daughter or Harry, but simply stood watching, as if transfixed. Harry understood the feeling.

Ginny was beautiful, as beautiful as any of the girls around her. She hugged her father and took her place by Harry, while the other wives lined up behind her. Surprisingly, Bill and Charlie, without even a glance, stood and assumed positions behind Neville and Ron, giving balance.

Harry looked Ginny in the eye as the vows were exchanged. “Are you sure about this?” he whispered during one of the minister’s speeches.

“I’ve never been more sure.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Finally, he kissed the bride, and as their lips and magic merged with the same power as his other wives, Harry realized that Ginny belonged as much as they did, if not more. “Hello, Mrs. Potter,” he said after they broke.

“Hello, Mr. Potter,” Ginny grinned back with a tear in her eye.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I am pleased to present you Lord and Lady Harry James Potter.”

The applause was so resounding, that they did not even hear the thud at first.

Harry did not need to hear it, though, to feel something was wrong. He could feel it in the air around him. It felt as if Hogwarts itself was warning him of something.

Suddenly the double doors of the great hall exploded inward with a bellowing roar. Not one, but five massive green trolls shambled in. In their center stood five figures in black robes, led by a maniacally grinning Bellatrix Lestrange. “And you didn’t even invite me, Potter?” she said with a laugh.

 

 

 


	13. In Which Harry and Bellatrix Calmly Discuss Their Differences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They probably make a drug for whatever it is she has wrong with her.

“You and your whores can all just die, Potter!” Bellatrix Lestrange shouted.  The next moment she hurled a killing curse not at Harry, but at Ginny and the other wives. 

Harry did not even bother with his wand.  He didn’t even use magic.  He used his bond with Hogwarts.  The floor rose up in a brick wall to shield his wives while everyone else ran for cover.  “Stay there!” he yelled back at them.

“Like that’ll happen,” Hermione snapped back.  She already had her wand out.  On the other side of the hall, the trolls lifted their clubs and lunged forward to attack the wedding guests.

As Harry darted toward them, he lost himself in memories of another time, and another persona.  Without even being aware of summoning it, Gryffindor’s sword shot up from the floor and into his left hand, while in his right he wielded his wand.

The Death Eaters saw him coming and launched a barrage of curses.  He summoned an angled _protego_ shield that sent them all flying into the face of the troll behind them.  At the same time, he sent an image through his link with the castle and felt the floor shoot up under his feet in answer.

Bellatrix stared as Harry shot up into the air as if flying and landed on the head of the nearest troll.  He slid down the back of the creature’s head until, with a yell, he slammed his sword hilt-deep into the back of the creature’s neck.

The troll blinked in surprise, made an odd gurgling sound, and fell forward with a thud.

Harry jumped off the creature as it fell, and while in flight poured fire from his wand.  All the Death Eaters summoned their shields.  Harry disapparated before he landed, and appeared a moment later between the Death Eaters and another troll.  He swung the blade and cut off one of the brute’s toes before disapparating away again.   Enraged, the beast slammed its club down directly on one of the Death Eaters.  The sound of crushed bone reverberated through the hall.

From the alter, Ginny crouched down with her sister brides while her family gathered around her.  Her parents, Bill and Charlie were launching curses and hexes at a troll that had seen her white dress.  The sheer power of the combined magic forced the creature back. 

But she was watching Harry and how the castle itself seemed to obey him.  A single rock fell from a buttress in the roof like a bomb and struck another of the trolls right in the head.  The creature collapsed dead to the floor.   She saw how Harry set one troll against the Death Eaters before he turned his attention back to the troll attacking the brides. 

She heard a harsh bark, and watched as the troll stiffened with a cry and then jerked about as its stomach seemed to shred before her eyes. 

“That’s Slytherin’s spell,” Hermione noted with wide eyes.  “It’s the one Slytherin used to kill Rowena Ravenclaw on her deathbed.”

Ginny barely heard.  Harry was moving so fast, not like anything she had seen before.  He brandished his sword with such easy skill it looked as if he had been born with it.  He flashed his wand wordlessly.  By now whatever advantage Lestrange sought with the trolls was gone.  Only two were alive, and one was battering her own people. 

It was Dumbledore who disposed of the fourth troll.  He brandished a fire whip of such power it sliced effortlessly through the troll’s throat. 

“You haven’t heard the last of me, Potter!”  Lestrange screamed. 

“Yes I have, Bellatrix,” Harry said.  “Hogwarts is mine.  I am her Lord, she is my home.  And you have walked her halls for the last time.”

Bellatrix turned to the troll.  “Attack him, you fool, he’s the one that hurt you!”

The troll looked up with dull, evil eyes and lunched forward.

Harry took two running steps and then threw the Sword of Gryffindor.  It spun tip over handle until it sank with a _thunk_ directly between the creature’s eyes.  It made a curious sound before falling forward.

Even before then, though, Harry summoned a powerful gust of wind that knocked the demented witch from her feet.  She scrambled back up and looked for support, only to find her fellow Death Eaters dead or incapacitated at the wands of other gusts. 

“You can’t stop me!” she screamed.  She began launching killing curses indiscriminately. 

Harry lunged forward.  “ _Exagnizo_!”

White fire burst from his wand; fire so brilliantly hot and powerful no counter charm could stop it.  Bellatrix had just a moment of clarity in her eyes—Ginny could see it from the alter—before the fire struck her and burned her body into dust. 

Suddenly the fight was over.  Five trolls were dead—four by Harry’s hand—and of the Death Eaters only two survived, thoroughly incapacitated. 

“Harry,” Dumbledore said.

 

Harry stood, his chest heaving and his eyes wild.  He held out his left hand and the sword left the head of the dead troll with a sucking sound and returned to his palm.  He then closed his eyes, swirled and arm and pointed the sword out the window.

With loud pops, the bodies were gone.  All of them.  He looked up at Dumbedore and the rest, and shouted at them.

In Frankish.  Then Basque.  Then in old Icelandic, before finally he stumbled into English.  “My castle!  My home!”

The sword fell from his fingers and sank quickly out of sight into the floor.  He walked past the stunned onlookers until he reached Ginny and the others.  She saw he had blood on his hands and face, some red, but mostly green from the trolls. 

“Harry,” Ginny whispered.

“How dare they!” he snarled.

It was the first time anyone had ever seen Harry enraged.  Ginny stepped toward him and placed a hand on his cheek.  “They’re gone, love,” she whispered.

“They invaded our home!” he hissed, shaking now.  His magic flared visibly all around him.

Hermione stepped up beside Ginny, followed by Luna, Susan and Daphne.  The surrounded him in a tight circle and put their hands on him.  Calm and love flowed through the touch, and in moments Harry collapsed, exhausted, to the floor.

“Wow, Harry,” Bill muttered as a sense of calm seemed to return.  They could hear Amelia issuing orders to the aurors.  Dumbledore arrived and smiled sadly at the ladies.  “I was able to deflect most of Bellatrix’s courses.  Sadly, there have been injuries.”

Harry looked.  “Who?”

“Ms. Katie Bell received a rather vicious curse and has already been transferred to Saint Mungos.  I’m very sorry to say that Colin Creavy was hit by one of the few killing curses I could not deflect.”

“Colin?” Ginny blanched.

“The other injuries are mainly broken bones brought about by the trolls, and will be readily healed.”

Ginny sat next to Harry.  “This wasn’t how I envisioned my wedding day,” she said with a sob. 

“Nor could any of us,” Dumbledore said.  “Although, frankly, I was expecting an attack yesterday.”

Daphne shrugged.  “The fact Draco Malfoy was there proved to me there wouldn’t be an attack.”

“I want to go home,” Harry said.  He looked at the girls around him.  “I want to be home with my family.”

“Of course, Harry,” Dumbledore said.  The headmaster started to speak when Harry and all five of his brides disappeared.

“Ginny!” Molly said.

“It is all right, Molly,” Dumbledore assured him.  He stood and surveyed the damage. “Mr. Potter was not lying when he said this was his castle.  It truly is.  He can do things here that not even I can do, and apparating is one of them.”

“I want to see my daughter!” Molly said.

“You can certainly ask.”

Molly marched through the hall, catching the rest of the Weasleys in her wake.  The only one missing was Percy.  She knew roughly where the Founder’s tower was, but only because Hermione had told her.  When she arrived, she was surprised to find a stone lion, raven, badger and snake blocking her way.

“Get out of my way,” she snapped.  The four stone creatures stared back in silence.

Arthur placed a hand on her arm.  “We would like to see Ginny Wea…Ginny Potter, please.”

The magical menagerie moved aside and the wooden door swung open.  The whole family trudged up the stairs until they emerged into a huge open room lavishly furnished with sofas and chairs.  A huge fireplace burned cheerily, though the room was not hot at all. 

The Weasleys saw Harry sitting on a couch, bent over with his face in a cloth, while around him five girls sat or chatted.  Ginny stood from among them, still in her beautiful wedding dress.  “Hello, Mum,” she said as she stood to hug the Weasley matriarch.

“You disappeared so fast,” Molly said, mollified a little by Ginny’s approach.

“Harry was sick,” she said.  “He needed to get out of there.”

“Sick?”

“He’s never killed anyone, Mum,” Ginny said with quiet intensity.  “I mean, intentionally.  Doesn’t matter that she deserved it or not, he’s never done that.  He killed four trolls and I think at least three Death Eaters, and he was sick from it.  That’s what happens when good people have to do hard things.”

No one could miss how she stressed the word _good_. 

Very slowly, Molly walked over to Harry and his wives.  She smiled a bit weakly at the four beautiful girls surrounding him, and then kneeled down.  “Harry, dear?”

He looked up from the towel and she could see he was still a bit green.  “Hi, Mrs. Weasley,” he said weakly.  “Sorry ‘bout the wedding.”

It was so typically Harry.  Here he was, the Founder’s Heir with five beautiful wives, and he was apologizing because maniacs attacked the wedding.  She blinked away a few tears and pulled him into a tight hug.  “Never you mind, Harry,” she said.  She looked up as Ginny joined them.  “You’ve got five fine young angels to look after you.  You love them, and you take care of them, and they’ll take care of you.”

“I will,” Harry said.  “Thank you.”

She let go, and grinned.  “Well, there’s nothing to do, but won’t be made better by a cuppa.”

And with that, Molly Weasley did what Molly Weasley always did when worried or upset.  She marched into the kitchen and started cooking.

It was a strange gathering, really.  In a sense, it was the first family gathering Harry ever had.  Because there was no doubt, this was HIS family.  He found himself looking from one face to the other, enjoying every sight around him.  He laughed at Daphne’s sharp, witty jokes.  He grinned at Luna’s enthusiasm for Mrs. Weasley’s pudding. 

The other Weasleys enjoyed the visit as well.  Molly made a point of talking to all the girls.  Hermione and Luna she knew already.  She knew her Ron had a liking for Hermione, but she also knew he had moved on.  Didn’t she hear of him snogging a girl from Gryffindor just the other day? 

Susan was an absolute delight.  Funny and kind almost to a fault, she knew that the new Lady Hufflepuff would be a good addition to Harry’s strange family.  The one girl she was uncomfortable with was Daphne.  The new Lady Slytherin personified everything about her house.  She was a witch from a dark-aligned family who made no apologies for the fact.  Yet, she also accepted without too much grumbling Luna’s spontaneous hugs, or Susan’s more considered ones.  She laughed with the others, and when she looked at Harry she had the same hungry gleam in her eyes the others did.

It was so uncomfortable, though.  If only…

“Mum,” Ginny said.

“Yes dear?”

“Go home.”

Molly blinked.  “What?”

“It’s my wedding night, Mum.  We finished the vows, we’re married, and I want to spend my wedding night with my husband.  Not my mum, my dad, or any of my brothers.  I love you all, I’m glad you came, but please leave.”

It was Bill who snorted and got up first.  “She has a point, Mum. When Fleur and I get married, I sure as Merlin don’t want you and Dad hanging around.  Come ‘ere, Gin.”

She accepted a long hug from her big brother, who then turned to Harry.  He offered a hand.  “You know the spiel.  Hurt her, die.”

“Probably before you even got to me,” Harry said.  He glanced over his shoulder at the other girls.  Charlie was next, then the twins and Ron.  One by one, the Weasleys made their goodbyes and left.

“You know,” Daphne said when they were finally alone, “I understand now why Dad kept us dark-aligned.  You light-side families are just bonkers.”  She stood and stretched.  “Well, I’ve discovered that because we are married, we’re legally adults.  Which means…Dobby!”

“Lady Slytherin Harry Potter sir’s wife calls Dobby?”

“That’s going to make me tired if he says that every time,” Hermione muttered.

“Dobby, can you bring four…”  she looked around.  “Ten bottles of firewhiskey?”

“Yesses!” Dobby exclaimed.  He popped away, and a moment later reappeared with a case of fire whiskey bottles.  Daphne took a bottle and said, “Ladies, we are now legal to drink.”

“What’s firewhiskey taste like?” Harry asked.

“Get your butt over here and find out, Potter,” Daphne said.  “Speaking of, when is it my turn with Harry next?”

“I figured we’d give him Sunday off,” Hermione said.  “So that would mean you get him Thursday.”

“Damn,” Daphne muttered. 

Luna smiled.  “I’ll sleep with you.”

“I’m sure you will.”

“Please?”

“Ask me after a bottle or two.”

Harry and Ginny each had a shot of the fiery liquid, but begged off any more.  “We’ve got things to do, places to be,” Ginny said.

“Places for things to be,” Luna added with a hiccup.  She then added with a voice filled with wonder, “I think I enjoy Firewhiskey more than pudding!”

\--

\--

Ginny woke slowly the next morning.  After a shot of whiskey and a bottle of wine, she should have had a headache.  After everything she and Harry had done, she should have ached between her legs and everywhere else.

As she stretched luxuriously in the silk sheets of the bed, she realized there was no pain or aches at all.  She felt energized and alive like never before.  She felt…Harry, very much awake and aroused, pressing against her gloriously bare rump.

“Good morning,” she said archly.

She could hear the quiet pop of lips spreading in a smile.  “Good morning, my love,” he whispered into her ear.  The sensation of the sound caused goose bumps run down the length of her naked body. 

His hand caressed her skin, not with the urgency of the previous night, but gently and with tenderness.  They started at her breasts and slid down her stomach until his wrist curled around her hip, and his fingers rested on the red down of her sex.  “How do you feel?”

“I feel incredible.”

“Me too.”

“You’re not tired?” 

He moved against her, and with gentle urging she moved in response.  She lifted her leg, and with the hand already there positioned himself to slide into her as they spooned together, and the feeling of it sent shooting trills of pleasure through her whole body.  “Yes,” she whispered. 

Their love making was slow and gentle.  It was the opposite of the desperate urgency both had the previous night, when each tried to excise the specters of Bellatrix’s attack.  It did not hurt at all—in fact it felt better than she could have imagined.  They finished at the same time, and she continued to tremble under the memory as he stayed within her, holding her.

“Harry?” she asked.  “Is it like this with the others?”

“Every one of you is different,” Harry admitted.  “I would never have done this with Hermione.”

“Why?”

“She’s visual.  She wants to see me.”

“And me?”

“You want to feel me.  You closed your eyes a lot last night.  You look at me when we aren’t touching or kissing, but when we’re kissing, or when we’re doing this, you close your eyes.”

She turned to her other side and looked at him, grinning.  “What about Luna?  Was she as wild as she sounds?”

“Luna was scared,” Harry admitted. 

“What’d you do?”

“I stripped naked and we tickled each other.  She’s so playful, a lot like you.  You like to play too.  But her…she’s never played like that before.  So I tickled her, and she tickled me, until the tickling turned into more, and she was ready.”

“And Susan?”

“Susan kissed my right foot, and that was pretty much the end of the talking.”

Ginny propped herself up.  “Really?”

Harry nodded. 

“Did you like it?”

“Oh yes,” he said.  He leaned over and kissed the nearest breast.  “Just like I like this.  These past five days have been absolutely amazing to me.  I feel overwhelmed and just…I really don’t deserve any of you, and yet somehow you’re all mine.  You’re the family I never had.  I love you all.”

Ginny grinned again—she was having so many deliciously naughty thoughts.  “So, is Daphne really sexy?”

“Yeah,” Harry said.

“Am I?”

“Oh yes.”

“And you don’t love any of us any more than the others?”

Harry sat up, and she realized that he was taking the question really seriously.  Suddenly, he grinned.  “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“To shower.  I’ll scrub your back if you scrub mine.”

“What does this have to do with being hungry?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said. 

They showered, got thoroughly distracted in the shower, then showered again to get clean after the first shower.  A few minutes later, Harry and Ginny walked out to find four girls in various states of dress passed out over the couches.  Between them, they managed to drink seven bottles of firewhiskey.

“Wow, that’s a bender,” Ginny muttered.

“It was a hard day yesterday,” Harry agreed.  He then marched into the kitchen, and Ginny followed.  She sat at the bar, and the two of them talked about quidditch, of all things.  She was going to try out as a chaser this year and continue to serve as the reserve seeker. 

Harry, meantime, was mixing flour, eggs, honey and milk with a touch of baking powder while a he lit a gas oven with a wordless charm.

“So where do you learn all that magic you used yesterday?” Ginny asked.  She watched him as he expertly cracked eggs and started cooking bacon, eggs and pancakes all at the same time. 

“After I bonded with the castle, I started having visions.  Dreams, I guess,” Harry explained while he cooked.  “I was living as the Founders, and after each dream I remembered things from their minds.  The first was the day Gryffindor left the service of King Aethelstan to head into Scotland to create the school.  Slytherin was his friend.  He had captured a bunch of Viking magicals and intended to take them with him as servants in a new village.  Two of the captured witches were Helga Hufflepuff and Rowena Ravenclaw.”

Ginny sat up.  “Rowena and Helga were Vikings?”

Harry nodded.  “Gryffindor fell in love with Helga the moment he saw her.  He went to her that very night.  She fought him, and…well, Dumbledore said today it would be rape.  But when I dreamed the same night as Helga I knew she was making sure he was worthy to take her, and he was.  She stayed loyal to him and bore him four children.  She stayed by his side until they left Hogwarts valley and retired to what we call Godric’s Hollow, where they both died at almost two hundred years of age.”

“What about Ravenclaw and Slytherin?”

Harry explained what happened to an enraptured Ginny while he continued cooking.  He soon had coffee and tea brewing.  When he turned back to Ginny, he saw Hermione sitting at the bar beside the younger girl.

“Hermione, I love you, but you’ve looked better.”

“Bleruurghhh,” Hermione said.  Her eyes were red and scratchy, and her hair puffed like the mane of a very grumpy lion.

Harry grinned at Ginny.  “You wanna see something I figured out this morning?  When you asked me if I loved one of you more than the others?”

Ginny nodded.  Harry finished the pancakes, put everything aside, and then walked around the bar until he stood directly behind Hermione.  He slowly swung her about, and she stared up at him blear-eyed.  “Whaddya you want, Harry?” she whined.

He leaned down at kissed her.  His hand reached down and cupped around her side to pull her closer to him.

Sitting so close, and being somewhat hyper-aware from her own loving, Ginny watched as color flushed across Hermione’s cheeks and down her arms. 

When Harry finished his kiss and stepped back, the dark circles were gone from Hermione’s eyes, and her skin was no longer sallow.  He gave her another peck on her forehead before he went back to cooking breakfast.  Hermione touched her lips in surprise.  Suddenly she spun around.  “It _was_ you that healed me in the hospital!” she shouted.  There was no sign of her hangover.

“I think so,” he said. 

By then, the smells of food and coffee had the other girls waking as well.  Daphne and Susan both groaned.  Luna, oddly enough, was very quiet and moved about as if still asleep.  However, like lumbering inferi they followed the heaping platter of food to the large dining room table just out from the kitchen.

“Did you cook all this, Harry?” Susan asked.  Like Hermione, she was somewhat pale and bleary-eyed.

He nodded as he sat down.  “My muggle guardians were not nice people.  When I was younger, the only time they let me out of the cupboard under the stairs was to prepare meals or do chores.  I became a very good cook.”

Ginny and Hermione of course new the story.  Luna knew a little through Ginny.  However, Daphne and Susan stared in shock.  “You lived in a cupboard?” Susan asked.

“He was abused most of his life,” Hermione said.  “I hugged him after he saved me from that troll my first year, and he said that was the first hug he’d ever had.  Can you imagine?”

“Yeah,” Daphne said.  “Still, my parents may have been cold, but they were never cruel.”

“Which reminds me,” Harry said.  “I want to show you all something.  I’ve already showed Hermione.”

He was sitting between Hermione and Ginny, but he stood and walked around to Luna, who sat by Ginny.  She looked up at him with a wan smile, and did not move as he leaned down and kissed her.  Like with Hermione, he roped an arm around her side and pulled her close.  Everyone noticed how she surreptitiously moved his hand up until it rested on her left breast.

When he released her, her eyes were wide and her cheeks flushed.

He moved on to Susan.  She seemed to understand and pushed up into the kiss as Harry hugged her.  Their lips parted, and again, she appeared fully recovered from her hangover.

“What are you doing, Potter?” Daphne said warily.

“Showing that not everything about the light is crazy,” he said. 

She did not try to stop him as he leaned down and kissed her as well. 

Once all his wives were thoroughly kissed, Harry calmly walked back to his seat and started eating.  He was intensely aware of five pairs of eyes staring at him and fought a loosing battle not to grin.

“Okay, I personally drank a bottle and a half of firewhiskey,” Daphne said.  “I should not only be hung over, I should be a little sick with a pounding headache.  Instead, I feel wide awake, not an ache or pain in my body, and frankly a little randy.”

“Only a little randy?” Susan muttered. 

Harry’s grin started to hurt.  “I have a power,” he finally confessed.

“And it is seven inches long,” Luna intoned. Then she added in a loud whisper, “I measured.”

The other girls nearly fell out of their chairs laughing while Harry let his head fall into a pile of pancakes when he failed to keep his resolve.  When at last he could catch his breath, he sat up, only to have a pancake stay thoroughly stuck to his forehead.  This set the girls off again.

Finally, when calm was restored, Hermione called the room to order.  “I want to hear about this,” she finally said.  She looked around at the other girls.  “At the ministry I was hit by a dark curse from Dolohov.  Madame Pomphrey said I’d be taking ten potions a day for a month.  Harry hugged me, and the curse was healed.  And I don’t know about you, but when Harry and I had our…well, our wedding night, he healed me then too.  It barely hurt even a second.”

“So that’s what it was,” Daphne said.  “Mom said it was supposed to hurt a lot more than it did.”

“Like I said, I have a power,” Harry said.  “I just made the connection this morning.  Ginny asked me if I loved any one of you more than the other.  I was going to tell her I couldn’t do that, because my love wasn’t like a pie to be divided up.  It’s more like an ocean.”

“Potter, please don’t ever try to write poetry,” Daphne said.  “That has to be the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Harry grinned.  “But that got me thinking about something Dumbledore told me after the ministry fiasco.  Hermione, Luna and Ginny were all there when Voldemort tried to possess me.  He was trying to make Dumbledore kill me. But I was able to throw him out by thinking about things I loved.  About the people I loved.  Dumbledore said that I had the power of love, and that it was this power that threw Voldemort out of my mind.”

He looked around the table.  “I love all of you.  I know it sounds nutters and I know I’m not saying it right, but I love you all.  It’s not a matter of loving you equally, because I don’t have just a set amount.  I can love any of you just as much or as little as you need me to.  If I have any true strength, any power that is just Harry Potter’s, it’s my power to love without limit.  I would die for any one of you; I would kill for any one of you.  I would do anything any of you needed.  And because I love you so much, I think I can heal you.  And you heal me.  After that fight, when all of you touched my back…”

He shuddered.  “I wish I could talk better.  I wish I had the words.  It was better than the sex. It was like you were all there with me, inside of me at the same time.  At that moment, I could have done anything, because you were with me.  I don’t need pepper-up potions or even nights off.  You guys heal me just like I heal you.”

“I don’t know, you looked tired after Susan’s night,” Hermione muttered.

Susan blushed scarlet.  “I kissed his foot, and then kept him up all night.”

“All night?” Daphne asked.

“All night.  Ten times.”

“Wow,” the Slytherin said.   “Wait, ten times?  How is that even possible?”

“We kept healing and reenergizing each other,” Harry explained.  His cheeks were near glowing. 

“So, to sum up,” Daphne said.  “You can have almost unlimited sex, and you can cook.”

“Err…”

“I got him first!” Hermione screamed. 

Daphne, Susan and Ginny called, “No fair!”

Luna called, “He is very ticklish around his stomach and ribs.”

All the girls stopped, stared at Luna for a long time, then very slowly turned back to Harry.  “Oh bugger,” he muttered.

A split second later he was running from the table with five beautiful witches in close pursuit. 


	14. In Which Harry's Angels Learn The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth is out there...in Harry's forehead.

Harry and his wives thoroughly tested his hypothesis that Sunday. They continued testing into the next week as well. None of the staff that resided in the castle chose to mention anything about how neither Harry nor any of the wives appeared at all for four whole days.

For Harry, it was an experience he could never have prepared for. The tickling tackles were the first he ever had, and the girls seemed to delight in removing clothes even while they tickled him. He tickled back, but was severely outnumbered. Fortunately, Luna was prone to unexpected bouts of betrayal and would turn on her sister wives with gleeful abandon. Eventually he was down to his boxers when Hermione finally dragged him away.

“It has been five days since my wedding night,” she declared as she threw off her robes and closed the door to her master bedroom.

At some point during their second day, modesty became a moot issue. Harry wasn’t sure when clothes became redundant. As their wedding bonds strengthened, they seemed to form such a close rapport with each other that it was not disturbing in the least for Daphne to stroll across the main common room starkers in order to grab a pint of juice. Lunch was consumed in underwear.

Harry realized things were truly different when Luna calmly walked in on him and Susan and Susan did not care. She didn’t even blink an eye when Luna climbed into the bed with them. “I don’t like being alone,” Luna explained.

Susan stopped bucking on Harry long enough to lean over and kiss the other girl. As she did so, her nipples brushed against Harry's chest, almost ending that session right there and then. “I know,” Susan said. “It’s okay.”

“Is it okay with you, Harry?” Luna asked. Her own smaller yet just as delectable breasts hovered just over his face with one soft pink nipple brushing against his lips.

“You’re kidding, right?” Harry asked. He then suckled that nearest breast, just to make sure she knew he was okay with it.

There were limits, of course. Hermione he knew would never be one for company. Ginny, too, treasured private time. Daphne, Luna and Susan, however, did not seem to have the same qualms. On Wednesday morning, he even found Luna and Daphne spooning on the couch in the depths of a very soothing sleep.

Eventually, though, the six of them looked up from their honeymoon festivities and realized the world was moving on around them. So, on the Thursday after the week that saw five weddings, Harry and his wives dressed and left their tower.

Harry looked around the halls, and then looked at one of the Portraits. This one was of a matronly woman in a bulging bodice. “Excuse me, do you know where Professor Dumbledore is?”

“Oh yes, m’lord,” the matron said with a little curtsey. “He is in his office.”

“Can you tell him that we’d like to see him?”

“Of course,” the matron said. She turned to another portrait as Harry and the ladies left. “Did you hear that? The young master spoke to me!”

They made their way through the mostly empty castle until they reached the entrance to the Headmaster’s Office. The gargoyle was already out of the way and the path was clear, so the six of them walked up.

“Ahh, Mr. Potter! Lady Gryffindor, Lady Ravenclaw…”

“We get it, good morning,” Daphne said. She looked at the others. “Formal announcements are going to be a pain.”

“Well, I trust you have had an enjoyable week.”

“You have no idea,” Susan said. She was virtually glowing.

“Did you know the power of love is available in a variety of positions?” Luna asked. “It even works on couches. That last part may be genetic, though.”

The old wizard stared at her for a very long time. “An aspect of that particular power I frankly had not considered.”

“So, has the Daily Prophet had a field day with us?” Harry asked.

“Oh yes,” Dumbledore said. “Quite the show it’s been while you have been enjoying your honeymoon. Evidently Hogwarts has become a house of sin and depravity. The board of governors has even made inquiries. Fortunately, with the loss of Lucius and four new seats, they don’t have a quorum to take any action.”

“Four new seats?” Harry asked.

“Yes. With your confirmation as the heir and elevation to the Wizengamot, you now make up a quarter of the board just by yourself. Congratulations.”

“Does that mean I can get Snape fired?”

“I would appreciate it if you do not,” Dumbledore said.

“Could he get you fired?” Daphne asked piercingly.

“Again, I would appreciate it if you do not,” Dumbledore said with just the twitch of his lips.

“Okay,” Harry agreed easily enough. “I was hoping to talk to you about what we do next.” He looked around at the girls. “We’re sort of a package deal now, so I think it’s time we got down to business.”

“And you are sure you want the girls to know everything?” Dumbledore asked.

“They deserve to know.”

And so Hermione, Luna, Susan, Daphne and Ginny listened intently as Dumbledore recited the prophecy. Naturally, all of them being a bit smarter than Harry, they all immediately understood what it mean.

“And so when Harry said he wasn’t sure he’d see eighteen, he was being literal,” Hermione said. “And we’re sure it has to be him?”

“As sure as we can be about anything. However, even if I had my doubts, Voldemort does not. He is convinced that Harry is the only one who can defeat him, and so he is going to do everything he can to destroy him.”

“What can we do to help?” Ginny asked.

“Tell them about the horcruxes,” Harry said.

Daphne sat up, eyes wide. “Horcruxes? Voldemort has…of course.”

“You have heard of them?” Dumbledore said with genuine surprise.

“I come from a Dark-aligned family. I’ve spent Solstices at Malfoy Manor. I’ve read about them, but not in detail. Some things are too dark even for the Dark-aligned families.”

“Why don’t you tell us?” Ginny asked.

“You know as much about them as anyone,” Harry said. “You were possessed by one.”

Ginny paled. “The diary?”

“It was a horcrux,” Dumbledore said. “It was not just an enchanted diary. It actually possessed a portion of Voldemort’s very soul. There is a method by which a wizard may shatter portions of his soul and anchor them into an object. This has the effect of essentially rendering him immortal.”

“But Harry destroyed the diary!” Ginny said.

“He did,” Dumbledore said. “It was not the only one.”

“So we need to destroy the hocruxes,” Hermione said. Leave it to her to jump immediately to the heart of the matter. “But first we need to find them. Do we know how many there are?”

“Voldemort once expressed to his professors that the number seven had special significance.”

“So, Tom Riddle’s diary was one,” Hermione said. She started looking around and her finger started to twitch.

“Parchment and quill,” Harry interpreted.

“Of course,” Dumbledore said. He quickly provided the supplies, and Hermione started writing. “What clues do we have?”

“I have made an extensive study of Tom Riddle’s life,” Dumbledore said. “From when I first discovered him in the orphanage, to when his first body was destroyed when giving Mr. Potter his scar. What I have learned is that Tom Riddle was descended from the Gaunt family. His mother was a very sickly, inbred child who fell in love with, and through a potion, raped a muggle named Tom Riddle Sr. Tom Marvolo Riddle was born nine months later. His mother died shortly after his birth.”

“You mean to tell me that the Dark Lord is a half-blood?” Daphne whispered, clearly stunned.

“Just like Hitler was of Jewish descent,” Hermione said. “What else, Headmaster?”

“I saw early on that Tom liked to take trophies. For instance, one of my to-do projects this summer was to visit the old Gaunt home. I strongly suspect I shall find a horcrux there.”

“Why haven’t you?” Ginny asked.

“I got side-tracked with your husband’s apparently insatiable love life, Mrs. Potter.”

Ginny blushed and grinned. “Yeah, it is that.”

“So he liked trophies.” Hermione was not going to be side-tracked.

“Because of his being an heir of Slytherin, he felt a connection to the founders.”

Harry stood up. “What is it, Harry?” Hermione asked.

Harry looked down at Dumbledore. “The Grey Lady. She said to look for her mother’s diadem. She said it was in the heart of the castle!”

“Then it will be there for a few minutes more,” Hermione said. “Let’s finish this list and then go horcrux hunting, shall we?”

“Yes, Head Wife,” Harry said meekly.

“Don’t you start with me, young man,” Hermione snapped. “Okay, so it’s likely that Ravenclaw’s diadem is one.”

“I suspect the Resurrection Stone is another,” Dumbledore said. “It is that which I believe is hidden in the old Gaunt home.”

Luna perked up. “The Resurrection Stone as in The Deathly Hallows?”

“Yes, my dear. Of course your father is a firm believer in the old story, isn’t he?”

“I’ve heard the story,” Daphne said. “It’s a myth, though.”

“Not at all. Tom Riddle was a descendent of Cadmus Peverell, who was actually the great grandson of Salazar Slyherin and Rowena Ravenclaw. The stone was passed down from generation to generation, until it came into the possession of Riddle’s maternal grandfather, Morphin Gaunt. It is near indisputable proof that the Gaunt family were descended from Slytherin.”

He looked at Harry. “The other brother, Ignotus, had a true cloak of invisibility. Like Cadmus, he handed it down from generation to generation, until it came at last into the hands of James Potter.”

Luna squealed. “You mean Harry has one of the hallows? Father will be so excited.”

“Let’s wait until everything is settled to start advertising,” Harry urged.

“Indeed,” Dumbledore said. “I cannot stress this enough, ladies. If he finds out we know of his horcruxes, he will hide them more securely, or move them about, and make it near impossible find them. Nothing we discuss can leave this room.”

They all nodded. “So, diary, diadem, Resurrection Stone. Any other ideas?”

Dumbledore chuckled. “I had so many wonderful memories stored for you to use in your quest,” he said, “now I find I am just having to tell you. I believe the next item will be the cup of Helga Hufflepuff.”

“You know, Slytherin supposedly had a locket that would only answer to parseltongue,” Daphne said.

“He did indeed,” Dumbledore agreed. “I would make a most auspicious horcrux.”

“But that’s two from Slytherin,” Hermione said. “Why not use something of Gryffindor’s?”

“Gryffindor’s sword is the only item of importance from him,” Harry said. “It destroys dark magic on contact. Voldemort would lose the soul fragment he tried to put in it, and would likely die in the attempt. And Gryffindor’s hat would simply tell us what happened.”

“Quite right.”

“So, diary, stone, diadem, cup and now a locket. We’re up to five items. What’s left?”

“The last two, I’m afraid, are not quite as easy. Based on her unusual lifespan and size, I believe that Riddle may have imbued a portion of his soul into his snake, Nagini.”

“Based on what evidence?”

“During third year, when I first started getting visions,” Harry said, “I had a vision that Voldemort was having Wormtail milk nagini.”

“He was living, in part, off her venom,” Dumbledore said. “Venom laced with his own soul energy.”

“That’s disgusting,” Susan muttered. She looked a little green.

“So, there’s only one left. Any ideas?”

Dumbledore stood up abruptly and paced around his desk with his hands behind his back. “Headmaster?” Hermione asked. She was startled by his sudden movement.

“You must understand, we weren’t sure at first,” Dumbledore said without turning to face them. “The idea was so very atrocious. But as time went on and I studied the prophecy, it all made a terrible kind of sense. A cruel joke on both Voldemort and his victim. I thought I would be able to deal with it, to do what I had to do for the greater good of all, but I found the task beyond me.”

He turned around at last, and the six young people were startled by a silvery tear tracing a path down his cheek. “The last horcrux, Harry, is you.”

Automatically he lifted a finger to the scar.

“That’s right,” Dumbledore said. “I knew the moment you mentioned how it hurt whenever Voldemort was near. How it formed a connection. It was a fragment of his soul aching to return to him. One of the prerequisites for the creation of a horcrux is pre-meditated murder. We believe that Voldemort was going to try and make the cloak of Ignotus Peverell a Horcrux with the murder of either you or your mother. He began the process with her death, but it was interrupted by your mother’s blood magic causing his spell to rebound from you. Rather than settling in the cloak, the soul fragment settled in you.”

“Either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives,” Hermione recited. She blanched the color of bone. “No,” she said. “No, it can’t be. There has to be another way!”

“What?” Susan asked.

Luna, though, looked over at Harry with glistening silver-grey eyes. “It means that in order for Voldemort to die, Harry must die as well.”

“And that, Ladies, was why your compulsions were so very strong,” Dumbledore said with such profound sadness it brought tears to all the wives. “Hogwarts evidently knew of the fate on Mr. Potter’s shoulders. And so to ensure the lines he carries are preserved, she added strength to bonds you all ready had. Not a compulsion, perhaps, but she made each of you fully realize the depth of your feelings toward Mr. Potter, where before was only the potential.”

“And Harry?” Daphne said.

“Harry…” Dumbledore smiled. “Harry’s capacity for love astounds me, given the harsh and loveless environment in which he was raised. It was your own affections for him that cemented his affection for you. And now that the bonds have been set, I daresay you are stuck with each other.”

“Good,” Hermione said. The four other wives nodded, and Harry grinned. “Like I said earlier, we’re a package deal,” Harry said. “So I have to die before Voldemort can die. For the sake of the world.”

Hermione turned to glare at him. “Harry, I know what’s going through your mind, and I’m telling you right now that isn’t going to happen. We’ll find another way.”

“Together,” Luna said with a faraway look, “we can do anything.”

“Okay,” Harry said. “I promise not to kill myself anytime soon.”

“I’m not joking,” Hermione said.

Harry looked her in the eye. “I have five overwhelming reasons to live, Hermione. For the very first time in my life, I have a true reason to live. I’m going to live every minute I can.”

“I must admit,” Dumbledore noted, “you seem to be taking this much better than I would have thought.”

“A week of depravity has given me a unique perspective,” Harry admitted. “When they’re with me, Headmaster, it really does feel like anything is possible.”

“So, shall we go get the diadem?” Luna asked.

The seven of them left Dumbledore’s office and walked through the castle toward the room of requirement. They found the room filled with thousands of items lost over the years. Harry walked to the center of the room and said, “May I have the diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, please?”

The girls and Dumbledore watched in admiration as a circlet appeared before Harry, hovering in the air. With a smile, Harry took the diadem. “Thank you, Hogwarts.”

The lights in the room dimmed once in acknowledgment. Harry walked back to Dumbledore and handed the bemused Headmaster the item in question. “Here’s one.”

 


	15. In Which Draco Malfoy Meets the Half-Blood Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's just misunderstood, that's all.

_Harry Potter marries five girls in five days!_

_Hogwarts: An Institution of Magic, or of Lechery and Lust?_

_Bellatrix Lestrange killed by the Chosen One during his FIFTH wedding!_

_Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slytherin, and Potter? The story of the fifth bride._

Draco slammed the paper down with a snarl. Nearly every article was about that blasted Harry Potter. Just the headlines were enough to make the Malfoy heir sick. He would show them, though. He would show them all.

“Draco!”

He looked up at his mother standing in the door of the study. “What are you doing in there?” she asked.

“In my father’s absence, I am the master of this house,” Draco said in a tone that would have made his father proud.

“In your…” Narcissa Malfoy shook her head viciously. She strode purposefully across the Persian rug that dominated the floor of the office, and before Draco could even speak she swung her arm in a vicious blow across his cheek. “You stupid, idiot boy! You stupid, stupid boy!”

Draco rose, his wand in his hand and a curse on his lips, when he froze before a sight he thought never to see.

His mother was crying. She stood rooted to the floor, her eyes closed and her chest shaking, as she wept. “Stupid boy,” she cried. “You are going to die. Lucius will die, and you’re going to accept the Dark Lord’s mission and die as well, and I’ll be all alone!”

Draco lowered his wand. “I will not fail.”

“Not even the Dark Lord was able to kill him!” Narcissa suddenly shrieked. She grabbed her blonde hair and glared. “Do you think some sixteen-year-old boy can defeat the most powerful light wizard in England? Do you think you could even kill Potter? Have you ever killed anyone?”

Draco opened his mouth to protest that of course he had killed. But that would have been a lie. The closest to true Death Eater action he had been involved in was giving Goyle tacit permission to try and force Greengrass. He was so mortified by the result he didn’t even bother threatening the girl for her retaliation. He knew, however, that his father regularly did much worse, and he would be expected to do the same.

“I can take care of Potter,” Draco said at last.

His mother shook her head. “You have your father’s courage, but none of his wit. Potter killed your aunt, Draco! Bella had twice your power, five times your training and absolutely no conscience. Potter destroyed her so thoroughly they couldn’t even return parts. He killed four trolls single-handedly. He is the Heir to Four Founders, including Lord Slytherin. Do you honestly think you can ‘take care’ of him?”

“What are you trying to say, mother?”

“I’m saying that if I lose my son, I shall die myself.” She spoke as if already dead—he could hear no emotion from her suddenly flat voice, and could see only despair in her eyes. “The Master gave you this task, Draco, to punish your father. Lucius cares for nothing, not even me. But you, my son, he cares for. You he would die for. And if you die at the Dark Lord’s whim, it will be a punishment crueler than death to him.”

 _I don’t know if he’s going to kill your father or not, but I know you’re going to pay for your father’s mistakes._ Potter’s words rang in his ears from just before the end of term.

“If I try to refuse this, he will kill me,” Draco said, no longer as sure of himself. “I have to do this.”

“You will need help,” she said. She reached across and grabbed his hand. “Come with me.”

From their living room, Narcissa grabbed Malfoy’s arm and side-along apparated him to a hill overlooking a dilapidated muggle neighborhood. Nearby, the huge chimney of a collapsed mill dominated the summer skyline.

“Where is this place?” Draco asked with obvious distaste.

“Spinner’s End,” Narcissa said shortly. She led her son down the hill and across a street until they walked on a cracked side-walk in front of the broken down brick houses.

They came to a street actually called Spinner’s End, and Draco wondered if that was what the town was really called or not. Many of the houses were boarded-up and falling down, but the last house on the street had at least the outward appearance of habitability.

She led Draco to the door and knocked firmly. A moment later, the door opened.

Draco stared. “Professor Snape?”

The potions master stared first at Narcissa, then at Draco, before he sighed. “Your foolish sister has placed us all in a difficult position, I see.”

Narcissa merely stood, waiting.

“Very well, come in.”

Draco followed his mother into the room with open confusion. “Professor, why do you live among these filthy muggles?”

“Silence, boy,” Snape muttered. “Sit down, and be silent.”

He turned to Narcissa. “Why are you here, Cissa?”

“Bella’s dead.”

“We have established that. I understand the spell Potter used on her was one Godric Gryffindor developed to use against a dragon harassing Hogsmeade. Only a handful of wizards since then have been able to use it. You should be honored your sister died in such a glorious fashion.”

“Severus!” Narcissa gasped. “Did you hate her so?”

“Didn’t you?”

“You dare insult the most favored servant of the Dark Lord?” Draco hissed.

“You dare speak so of his new most favored?” Snape snapped back. “You will find, godson of mine, that being the most favored of the Dark Lord is a precarious position. Your own father should know.”

“Draco, he has…”

“Mother! You should not speak of it…”

“As if happens, Draco, I already know about your mission,” Snape said. “You are to try and kill Dumbledore, and you will most assuredly be killed in the attempt yourself. The Dark Lord voiced his satisfaction at this punishment for your father’s failure.”

Draco paled. “He voiced…?”

“Do you really think the Dark Lord expects a sixteen-year-old child to kill the most powerful light wizard in the past two centuries?” Snape said. His voice dripped sarcasm. “What he expects is for Dumbledore to be forced to kill you. And then he’ll be able to gloat over the headmaster’s guilt. In actuality, Potter will probably detect your attempt and kill you before Dumbledore has opportunity. Now that he is the true Lord Slytherin, he can enter our dorm at any time. He can listen to any conversations through the portraits. Just yesterday Dumbledore confessed to me that Harry has formed a rapport with the Bloody Baron himself. In that castle, Harry Potter is now the true master.”

Narcissa merely stared. “You mean all the articles…”

“I spoke to Potter myself, and Dumbledore confirmed it,” Snape said. “All those marriages are not just to appease Mr. Potter’s juvenile fantasies. He is the true heir of all four founders, and each of his wives has taken the title of their house. Greengrass is now Lady Slytherin, and as such has the same privileges over the dungeons as I do. She could lock you out of your own room if she chose, Draco.”

“What are we to do?” Narcissa asked. “If I lose my only son…Severus, you must help.”

“What do you expect me to do, Narcissa?”

She reached and pulled her hair as her eyes darted over Snape’s face. Draco sat on the edge of his seat, sensing something momentous and terribly dangerous was about to happen. Finally, his mother spoke, and he realized it was even worse than he thought.

“Dumbledore thinks you are his man,” she whispered. “Take us to him. Both of us. Let us beg for mercy and protection.”

“Mother!” Draco was on his feet. “I’ve taken the mark! There is no turning back.”

Snape turned and looked at his godson. “There are many dead Death Eaters, Draco. Are you so determined to be one?”

Draco’s breath caught. “He can hurt us,” he finally said. “Through the mark. I didn’t realize…”

“Of course not. You’re sixteen years old. You’re not old or smart enough to understand just what the Dark Lord is. You do not understand true evil, and if you did, you would run screaming from it. You think you are brave, Draco, but only because you have yet to know true fear. But you are beginning to. Since you took the Dark Mark and heard the Master’s commands, you begin to understand what fear is. Do you feel brave now?”

Draco said nothing at first. He was shocked when Snape rushed to him, grabbed him by the lapels of his robe, and lifted him bodily from the floor. “Answer me, you stupid boy! Do you feel brave now?”

“No.”

“I cannot hear you!”

“NO!”

Snape dropped him with disgust. “I cannot save you from yourself, Draco. So you must make a choice here and now. You can save yourself, but it will require you to swallow your pride. It will require you to essentially crawl to Potter and request his help and his protection. None other can give it to you.”

“Potter, why him?”

“Because Potter is the new leader of the light,” Snape said. “Dumbledore has assumed the role of advisor. In both his battle against the Master at the Bones house, and this latest encounter with Lestrange, it was Potter who did the fighting. If you seek shelter, it will be up to Potter to provide it, just as it will be Potter who will face the Dark Lord. And I will not take you, boy, unless I have you declaration.”

“My declaration?”

“You will declare for the light on your oath. This will make Dumbledore appear he is winning converts from the Master’s side. It will make me look good in his eyes, allow you to live, but also convince the Dark Lord I was acting to further ingratiate myself into the headmaster’s good graces.”

“I can’t do that,” Draco said.

“Then perhaps I should just kill you now, and do away with the suspense,” Snape said. His wand rose.

“Severus!” Narcissa screeched.

Draco, though, knew his godfather would not do it. After five years of doing everything he could go give Draco an advantage over his classmates, Draco Malfoy knew that if any one person was on his side, it was the man standing before him now.

“Do you think Potter really would take me in?”

“Potter is so smothered in the affections of his wives right now he would likely forgive the Dark Lord himself. But your window is brief. If you go, he will accept you. The greater threat will be your classmates.”

Draco turned to his mother. “You really intend me to do this? To renounce the Master?”

“He was your father’s master, Draco. Where is your father now?” Narcissa asked. “He demands our loyalty, but gives nothing in return. I will die if I lose you, my son. Please make the oath.”

Draco turned and walked to a window in the house. It was tidy but dark, just like Snape. He noticed there were no pictures at all. It was as if Snape had no family at all. He was all alone in a dingy old house, he who was most favored of the Dark Lord.

He took a deep breath, placed his wand to his chin, and said, “On my magic, I, Draco Malfoy of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy, hereby renounce Lord Voldemort, and declare my allegiance to the light.”

The magic of his oath flowed past him, and though he could not say why, it felt as if a great and terrible weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

“And you, Cissa.”

“I, Narcissa Malfoy neé Black of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy, hereby renounce Voldemort and declare my allegiance to the light, upon my magic.”

Snape strode to the fireplace and threw in a handful of the floo powder. “Headmaster’s office.”

A moment later, Dumbledore’s face emerged from the fire. “Yes, Severus, what can I do for you today?”

“I need to transport two people directly to Hogwarts. They must meet with Lord Slytherin regarding an issue of loyalty.”

The face in the fire looked pensive. “I shall key your floo in. You may bring them directly here.”

Snape nodded. The face disappeared and the potions master looked first at Narcissa, and then Draco. “Are you ready?”

“Do I have any choice?” Draco asked.

“You did,” Snape said. “And you made it.”

“Then yes, I’m ready.”

When they emerged from the fire, Draco sucked in his breath when he saw Harry nearby, surrounded by five of the most beautiful girls in school. Every single one of them had their wand out.

Draco stumbled a little, but cleared out far enough for Narcissa and Snape to step through. He immediately spotted Dumbledore. “Headmaster, I asked that this be an issue for Lord Slytherin alone.”

“We’re a package deal,” Harry said. “What do you want?”

“The Dark Lord has tasked Draco with killing the headmaster,” Snape said. “He did this in order to punish Lucius.”

“I know,” Harry said. He tapped his scar. “I felt his rage, and then his satisfaction.”

“Draco has taken a magical oath, and has renounced the Dark Lord.”

The room fell quiet for the longest time. “Is that so?” Hermione asked with narrowed eyes.

“Yes,” Severus said. “I witnessed the oath myself.”

“And why should we believe you?” Ginny snapped.

“I believe him,” Dumbledore said with quiet authority.

Harry nodded, but his eyes narrowed. “The leak,” he suddenly realized. “It was you who leaked the prophecy to Voldemort.”

Snape nodded. “It was.”

“And it was Severus who came to me,” Albus said, “begging for help to save your mother, Harry.”

Harry nodded. “I think I understand now.”

“You think?” Severus said with his old sneer.

“You loved her,” Harry said. “The only thing you ever loved. And it drives you insane to see her eyes in James Potter’s face.”

Severus said nothing.

Harry turned to Draco. “You’re not having a good summer.”

“Not as good as yours,” Draco snarled.

“Gods, I hope not,” Daphne laughed without humor.

Both Harry and Draco blushed. “So you renounce the Dark Lord because you don’t want to die. I’m not sure that’s a good enough reason, Draco.”

Draco started on an angry retort, but looked to his mother and swallowed his words. “What do you want, Potter?”

“I want you to apologize to Daphne for letting Goyle try to rape her.”

Snape raised one brow. Draco, however, suddenly found it very difficult to look past his shoes. Finally, he stepped across the room until he stood before Daphne. She was stunningly beautiful, easily the most attractive of all the Slytherins, with only her own sister coming close.

“I really was sorry, even then,” he said softly. “I didn’t try to retaliate against you when you shrank Goyle’s bits. I laughed at him and said it was his own fault for messing up, but I was glad he failed. I am sorry.”

Suddenly Luna stepped out from behind Daphne and stared up at the blond boy. She lunged forward and wrapped him in a hug before he could even respond. He was surprised at how warm it felt.

Luna let go, turned to Daphne, and nodded. “He’s telling the truth.”

“I know,” Daphne said. She looked to Harry, the back to Draco. “Have you taken His mark?”

Draco nodded once and rolled up his sleeve. “He came to our house as soon as term ended. I had to accept it. I was even proud, at first.”

“But it hurt, didn’t it?” Harry asked.

Draco snarled. “Yes, Potter, it did.”

“You will name every Death Eater or Voldemort sympathizer in Slytherin,” Harry said. “I’m not going to make you stand up and declare before the houses, but you know this will get out. You will never be able to run in your old circles again.”

Draco nodded. “I know.”

“You will never use the term ‘mudblood’ again.”

Draco glanced briefly at Hermione but nodded.

“You will protect Astoria Greengrass with your life,” Harry added.

Draco looked up, surprised. Daphne was looking at Harry when he said this, but then looked back at Draco and nodded.

“And you will obey me in my capacity as Lord Slytherin as you would obey your own Head of House.”

Draco ground his teeth. “You’re asking a lot, Potter.”

“I’m asking a lot less than your old master, Malfoy, and you know it.”

The worst part was, Draco knew he was right. “Okay,” he said with a long, slow release of breath.

“Swear it.”

Draco swore to obey the terms, and Harry nodded. “Give me your arm.”

Draco stretched his arm out. Harry looked the other boy in the face. “This is going to hurt, Draco. It’s going to hurt a lot. I’m sorry.”

“Just do it,” Draco said. He wasn’t snarling any more.

Harry placed his wand on the mark and began hissing parselmouth magic. The darkest of dark magics spilled out across the room as the mark fought Harry’s magic. Draco grimaced, then cried out as he fell to his knees. Harry knelt down but did not let go of his arm.

“Ahhh!” Draco screamed in agony. Suddenly the mark burned a green flame. Draco stiffened; sweat beaded along his forehead as his whole face strained in agony so great it robbed him of his voice.

Harry jerked back, gasping himself. Draco fell to the floor, grasping his arm and sucking in great, sobbing breaths. Narcissa knelt to aid him, but Harry said, “Stop! Don’t touch him.”

She looked up, her face torn between concern, hate and gratitude. “It’s going to take a moment for the magic to disperse,” Harry explained. He leaned suddenly against Dumbledore’s desk, gasping himself. “If you touch him now, it might kill him. The mark had very, very dark magic in it.”

She watched as Potter’s brides reached out to him, and saw how he seemed to straighten and refresh under their combined touch. Then she looked down at her boy. He was not sobbing as hard. He unclamped his arm and she could see the angry red burns on his arm. It was a vicious burn and would leave an even more vicious scar, but the Dark Mark was gone.

“It’s done,” Harry said. “You’re free of him, Draco.”

“You should do mine next, then, Potter,” Severus said.

Everyone turned to stare at the Potions Master.

“Severus, are you sure?” Dumbledore asked.

“We both know my continued presence was to try and save Draco from the Dark Lord,” Severus said. “The intelligence I provided was increasingly irrelevant, and my elevation due to Bella’s death would almost certainly mean my eventual discovery. If there is any time to declare my side openly, it is now, when we have a champion.”

Harry looked from Snape to Dumbledore. “He’s always been your man.”

“He has always been my man,” Dumbledore confirmed. “The love he felt guides his actions even to this day, Harry. He has never been your friend, but for these many years he has been a better guardian for you than even me. If you must judge him, at least consider that as well.” Dumbledore looked carefully at the Potions master. “However, all that said, I would recommend against an open declaration.”

Snape’s eyes bulged. “What are you talking about?”

“There will come a time, soon, when we will have need of your position at the Dark Lord’s side, Severus. I can’t say when, but it is essential that you remain available to him. I say this knowing full well how very dangerous your position is. I will not force you to remain, but that would be my suggestion.”

Harry looked with narrowed eyes. “You know something?”

“A feeling, Harry, one I cannot give voice to. But after over century, I have learned to respect my hunches.”

Harry looked back at Snape. “I hate you,” he said simply, “but I have to respect you. If you wish me to remove the mark, I will.”

Snape looked at Harry with a blank expression for a moment, then back to Dumbledore. Finally, he shook his head and helped Narcissa drag Draco to his feet. “Come, Draco. I have burn salves that should aid your pain.”

Harry looked at Narcissa. “Do you have the mark?”

She shook her head. “I renounced the Master as well. For my son. I would do anything for my son.” She stood gracefully and watched as Draco and Severus left. “Thank you, Lord Slytherin. Thank you for Draco’s life.”

Harry nodded and watched as she left. Only when she was gone did he fall to his knees. “Wow, that was hard!”

“I think we need to go back to our tower for sex and healing!” Luna declared.

Dumbledore could only stand there with a gaping jaw when the other four wives readily agreed, very nearly lifted Harry from the floor, and spirited him out of the headmaster’s office.

Dumbledore turned to Fawkes. “What have I created?”

The magical bird sang a quick trill. Dumbledore stared at it with narrowed eyes. Even the bird sounded randy.

 


	16. In Which Harry Goes a Horcrux Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And Harry and Draco Party like it's 1996.

July 1 st found Harry and the girls listening to the Wizarding Wireless while entertaining guests. It was the very first time they had guests other than the Weasleys up in the tower.  It also happened to be the first time they bothered getting fully dressed in two days.

There were a surprising number of guests as well.  In fact, the room, which was easily larger than any single common room for the dorms, felt almost crowded.  Neville Longbottom and Hannah Abbot were there, as was Tracy Davis from Slytherin, and Daphne’s little sister Astoria.    Katie Bell was there to talk to Harry about the quidditch team since Harry told McGonagall that he was going to refuse the team captain position to concentrate on other duties.

Ron was there with Lavender Brown hanging on his arm and calling him Won Won.  The Weasley twins were also there with their girlfriends, Alicia Spinet and Angelina Johnson, and were talking to Harry regarding his silent partnership in their thriving joke shop.  

In order to provide at least the appearance of propriety, Harry ingeniously (he thought, at least) also invited Tonks and Remus Lupin.  Lupin, as a former professor, had the nominal respect accorded to his former role and provided a touch of maturity and restraint to what otherwise could have turned into a rather raucous party.  At the same time, though, he did not ruin the gathering with a stern expression like McGonagall would most certainly have had.  His status as a chaperone was further eroded by the fact that he spent most of the party on the couch with a beer in one hand and Tonks firmly snuggled under his other arm, talking DADA with Neville, Hannah and Luna.

The school elves catered a buffet, and it was in general an enjoyable gathering.  It was also the only time all four houses had representatives gathered voluntarily.  However, the party came to a deadening halt when the door to the main room swung open and Draco Malfoy stood there.

All the Gryffindors jumped to their feet in alarm.  The Slytherins stood as well. 

Harry, however, stepped between the little groupings until he confronted Malfoy.  “You going to be good?” he asked.  He made sure to speak loud enough that all his guests could hear.

Malfoy sneered.  “Would you settle for at least not too bad?”

Harry grinned.  “Yeah, I suppose I could.  No hexing, though.  Here, have a beer.”

“Butterbeer?”

“Do you really want butterbeer?”

Draco’s answering smile was not nearly as snarky.  “Not if I have a choice.”

“Legally I’m an adult, and at the moment you’re living in the castle so no worries about getting caught by aurors.  So, have a beer.”  Harry turned and faced his stunned peers in the room.  He motioned for Draco to follow and he walked to the couch where Daphne, Tracey Davis and Astoria waited.  Astoria looked very nervous; Tracey looked a little upset.

“Astoria,” Harry said, “I trust you know Draco?”

The almond-haired beauty nodded.  She did not have her sister’s eyes or hair, but her face was just as lovely, and she was already growing into a stunning young woman.

“Draco has made a promise,” Daphne said then.  “He’s promised to watch over you in our house.  If anyone in Slytherin bothers you, and I mean anyone, you tell Draco.  If he can’t handle it, he’ll tell me.  And if I can’t handle it…”

“Then I will,” Harry said with absolute certainty. 

Others were listening.  Draco nodded to the younger Greengrass.  “Anything you need,” he said.

She looked at her sister.  “What about Crabbe or Goyle?” she whispered.  “Or Parkinson?”

“Crab and Goyle will not be returning to Hogwarts,” Harry said.  He continued to speak loud enough for everyone to hear.  “Professor Dumbledore assured me their expulsion letters were mailed last week.  Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson also received letters.  Millicent Bulstrode, Blaise Zabini and several others are on probation.  No one with the Dark Mark will be allowed into Hogwarts as a student.” 

Many eyes turned to Draco, if only briefly. 

“So, Draco, here’s that beer Harry offered you,” Hermione Granger said.

Draco looked at her in surprise, and then forced a smile.  “Thank you.”

She smirked and went back to her studies. 

Draco looked back down at Astoria.  “Well then, if I’m going to be playing protective big brother, let’s hear your electives, then.  You’re going to be fourth year, right?”

Astoria nodded.

Harry left them and went to the kitchen and felt more than saw Hermione follow.  Katie was still there. The seventh year stared at Harry.  “Merlin’s beard, Harry, what’s going on there?”

“Draco made a difficult choice,” Harry explained.  “It’s not been easy for him.  And none of us are taking it easy on him, either.  But he came here, knowing he’d be stared at, because I wanted him to talk to Astoria regarding that promise he made. And he came.  That should tell you all you need to know.”

“Right.”  Bell chuckled.  “Well, I’m going to get another beer.  Unlike you kids, I don’t need to get married to be able to drink legally.”

“Heck, I had to get married five times,” Harry quipped as he raised his own bottle of German ale.  When Katie was gone, he smiled over at Hermione.  “Have I mentioned lately how much I love you?”

“It was Susan’s turn last night,” Hermione said, “so no.”

“Well, then let the records show that I quite thoroughly love Hermione, Lady Gryffindor.”  He leaned forward and gave her a kiss. 

She grimaced.  “Ick, beer kiss.  I don’t know how you can drink that stuff.”

He took a long pull.  “It’s awful, isn’t it?”

“Then why drink it?”

“Because I can?”

She shook her head.  “Boys.”

Just then Luna joined them with a beer in her hand.  “Isn’t this just the most disgusting drink in the world?” she said. She then downed the whole bottle in one long draught.

“How many of those have you had?” Hermione asked.

Luna hiccupped and swayed a little.  “Dunno.”  She looked at Harry.  “My turn tonight?”

“Daphne’s,” Harry said.

“Can I join you?”

Harry shrugged.  “Ask Daphne.”

“I’ll ask later,” she said.  She stumbled away. 

“Harry, do you think we’re a little young to live like this?” Hermione asked.  “With all the sex and alcohol?  Should teen-agers be having ménage-a-trois?”

“Err, what better time to have one?” he said.  He paused though, caught by the concern in her eyes.  After a moment, he looked out over the room.  “It’s hard to explain.  All this—it seems like the calm before the storm.  I don’t want it to ever end, but at the same time, I know it will.  Nothing this good can last forever.  But in the meantime…”  He shrugged.  “Besides, Luna really does add something interesting to the equation.”

“No,” Hermione said.

Harry shrugged.  Them he smiled at her.  “How ‘bout Ginny?”

“No.”

“So, you think we should stop having sex altogether?”

Hermione’s cheeks flared red.  “Not until after I have my turn,” she muttered.

Harry couldn’t help but laugh.  Just then Ginny joined them with a stack of posts.  “Hey guys,” she said.  She leaned up on her toes and gave Harry a lingering kiss.  “You’ll be pleased to know that we only got fifteen howlers today about how depraved we are and how the Boy-Who-Lived has been led down the path of sin by us lecherous tarts.  Susan and I used them for target practice.” 

“Nice,” Harry said.  “What’s all that?”

“Invitations to Lord and Lady Gryffindor.  Invitations to Lord and Lady Ravenclaw.  Invitations to Lord and Lady Hufflepuff.  Even a couple for Lord and Lady Slytherin.  Sadly, doesn’t look like anyone’s interested in Mr. and Mrs. Potter.  And there are five very large posts from Gringotts.”

“Hmmm, let’s open them up,” Harry said.  Ginny hesitated and Harry smiled.  “You’re my wife.  If I ever have anything to hide from you, it’ll be a birthday or Christmas present, not a statement of account from Hogwarts.”

“And you don’t mind us seeing them?” Hermione asked.

He shrugged.  “I don’t have anything I wouldn’t gladly share with any one of you anyway,” he said.

So they each opened up the thick posts.  “It’s an inventory of the vaults,” Hermione noted.  “Gryffindor has almost twenty nine million galleons.”  She did the math.  “That’s…wow, Harry, that’s almost £300,000,000.”

“Slytherin has almost twenty million,” Ginny with awe.  She opened up another, as did Hermione.  “Ravenclaw has nineteen million.”

“Hufflepuff has twenty-two million.”

“That’s over a billion in pounds,” Hermione said. 

“He really is the richest man in wizarding Britain,” Ginny said.  She grinned.  “Not that it matters.  Each of you girls will get those accounts with your kids.”

“Yeah,” Harry said.  “You’ll only get the Potter and Black accounts.  About five million galleons between the two”

Ginny gulped. 

Suddenly Hermione reached over and grabbed Harry’s hand and even bounced a little in her seat.  “Harry!” she hissed.  “Look at this acquisition report!  It’s a list of items the Goblins recovered since you came into your inheritance that belong in the Slytherin vault.”

She handed it over, and Harry saw it immediately.  He read aloud: “A locket, ensorcelled with Parselmouth magic, believed to belong to Salazar Slytherin himself.  Recovered from the person of Delores Umbridge prior to her transfer to Azkaban to serve her ten year sentence.”

“Do you know what that means?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah,” Harry said.  “It means Umbridge finally got what was coming to her.”

“Harry!”

“Yeah, I know.  The locket.”

Hermione dug through the stack until she found Hufflepuff.  “Yes!” she crowed loud enough for everyone to look at her.

“Sorry, guys,” she said.  More quietly, she handed the statement over and Harry sat as well.  “A cup ensorcelled to be ever-full bearing a badger effigy, believed to be an original creation of Helga Hufflepuff.  Recovered from the Lestrange Vault.”

Harry looked up at the two girls.  “Could it really be that easy?”

“There’s one way to find out,” Hermione said.  “But we’ll have to hurry.  Voldemort’s broken into Gringott’s before, he can do it again.”

Harry consulted the clock.  “Gringott’s closes within the hour.  Let’s shoot for first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Okay, but we better be safe about it,” Ginny said.  She looked Harry in the face.  “It’s my turn tomorrow night.’

“Yes, ma’am!”

 

\--

\--

 

Harry and the girls appeared next to the Leaky Cauldron early the next morning.  They were met almost immediately by a growl.  “Potter,” Mad-Eye Moody said.  “Potterlings,” he said to the girls.

“Potterlings?” Hermione said archly.

“I think he wants us to hex him,” Ginny said.

“Or perhaps a good tickle,” Luna suggested.

“You try to hex me, you’ll suffer,” Mad-Eye growled. “Try to tickle me, you’ll die.  Now come on, Shacklebolt’s waiting for us.  I want to get the circus over with.”

“Circus?” Harry wondered aloud.

It wasn’t until he stepped into the Leaky Cauldron that he understood.

The moment he and the girls stepped in, every patron in the stood jumped to their feet.  “Harry Potter!”  “The Chosen One” “He’s married to all those girls?”

The cries followed them all until they were in Diagon Alley.  Once there, it was even worse.  Witches and wizards lined the streets as Kingsley Shacklebolt joined their entourage down the middle of the alley.  “What is wrong with these people?” Harry asked.

“The older folk want to see the champion of the wizarding world,” Shacklebolt exclaimed.

“The younger folks want to ogle your wives,” Mad-Eye said.

“Or you,” Shacklebolt added.  “There did a full two page pictorial of you.  They also included many illustrations based on speculation of what you and your wives were up to in the week after your weddings.”

“Ohh, I want a copy!” Luna said.  The others turned and stared, but she merely shrugged.  “It might have some good ideas.”

Finally, they made it to Gringotts at the head of an uncomfortably large crowd.  The goblins bowed in welcome, and the manager of the bank met Harry just in side.  “M’lord and Ladies,” the Goblin said with more courtesy than Harry had ever seen in a goblin before, “how may Gringotts serve the Heir today?”

“I need to visit the Slytherin and Hufflepuff vaults,” Harry said. 

“Will your wives accompany you?”

“Yes.”

They produced a larger than normal cart.  With the two aurors standing guard just inside the rail, the manager personally escorted them down into the caverns, until they literally came to the end of the line. 

“The first four vaults,” the manager said.  “Vault one is Gryffindor.  Vault two is Slytherin.  Vault three is Hufflepuff, vault four is Ravenclaw.”

“Thank you,” Harry said.  “The business I must conduct is confidential.”

“I understand,” the goblin said.  “Call when you are ready.”

“Thank you.”

Harry removed his Slytherin key and they stepped into the magically expanded vault.  The gold sat in huge stacks, sheer piles of coins.

“You know,” Daphne said, “this alone is enough to make a girl randy.”

“Ohh,” Luna said.  She turned to Harry.  “Let’s have an orgy on the gold!”

Harry shrugged.  “Daphne, this is part of our child’s inheritance.  Grab some if you want.  That goes for all of you.  This is as much your money as mine.  Let’s make this a family outing.  We didn’t really get any wedding gifts, right?  So let’s get ourselves our own gifts.”

As one, all five girls converged on Harry.  “You are getting so lucky tonight,” Ginny promised with a kiss.

“More than once,” Daphne added.

“Hmmm, maybe I should grab some gold then too,” Harry thought aloud.

“Evil soul fragments from dark wizard first, sex later,” Hermione declared.  “ _Accio_ Slytherin’s locket!”

The locket came tearing through the air into her hand.  Almost immediately, she dropped it. 

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked.

“It felt filthy,” she said. 

Harry reached down to grab it, and immediately realized what she meant.  The locket projected a sense of degradation and filth through the touch.  “It’s definitely got something dark in it,” he said.  He slipped the locket into his pocket.  “Well, that definitely distracted me from sex.  So, should we grab gold from here, or should we take some from each of the vaults?”

“I want to see what’s in the other vaults,” Susan declared.

By mutual agreement, they decided to take funds from each of their vaults.  Harry tagged along into each one and took two endless purses himself.  He took a large handful and put it into each of the purses, then moved on.

They paused at Hufflepuff to collect the cup, and again felt the feeling of intense filth about it.  They stored the cup in a knapsack, and then Harry once again filled both purses.  When they were all done and had raided each of the four vaults, Harry handed his second purse to Ginny.

“I thought we were going to stick to our own vaults,” she said.

“You’re Mrs. Potter,” Harry exclaimed.  “You get a little bit of everything.”

The other girls listened to this explanation in silence.  “Er, you check with them about this?” Ginny asked with a flush.

Harry shrugged.  “We’re a package deal,” he said.  “What is mine, is yours.  All of you.”  He turned to face them.  “You have all been keyed into your houses’ vault, but you’re also keyed into the Potter and Black Vaults, just like Ginny is keyed into yours.  And let’s face it, with the restoration of the vaults, and the fact that technically all buildings in Hogsmead Valley, including Hogwarts, pay a tithe to these vaults, I don’t think we’ll run out any time soon.  Agreed?”

“I really want to be greedy and say stay out of Slyherin vault,” Daphne said.  She gave Harry a long, lingering kiss.  “But you make it really hard, you know?”  She turned to Ginny.  “You may have to share tonight.”

“Depending on the shopping goes, we all may have to share tonight,” Susan said.  She gave an exaggerated shiver.  “I love shopping!”

“Okay, dark, evil soul fragment from a twisted dark wizard, shopping, and then sex.”

“And food!”

“How ‘bout muggle food?” Luna asked.

The other girls looked confused.  “Trust me,” Hermione promised, “as the only muggle-born here, the Muggles have a lot more dining options than Diagon Alley.  But we need to get these horcruxes back to Dumbledore first.”

“I’ll handle that,” Harry promised.

They called for the bank manager, and in moments were careening through the tunnel back to where Shacklebolt and Moody waited.  Harry made a point of converting many of his galleons into pound notes.  Harry thanked the fawning goblin and the party stepped onto the front portion of the building.  “Rucksack?” Harry said.

He disappeared with a woosh of air, but no pop.  “He’s getting really good at that,” Susan said.  “When are we going to learn to apparate?”

Hermione looked to Moody and Shacklebolt.  “I don’t suppose one of you would be willing?

“I’ll do it right after I dig my good eye out with a spoon,” Moody growled.

Shacklebolt grinned.  “Best let an apparation teacher handle that, Lady Gryffindor,” he said.  “Doing it and teaching it are two separate things.”

Harry returned a moment later.  “You know, I think the Headmaster may have actually had a little accident when I handed the items over.”

“Really?” Luna said.

“He’s joking,” Moody growled.

“No,” Harry said, “I really wasn’t.”  He looked at his angels, and grinned.  “So, ladies, I’d say between us we have several thousand galleons.  Want to go shopping?”

Harry had no idea what he was getting himself into.  But he quickly learned that open-ended shopping with five young, newly wealthy witches was a torture just two steps below the _cruciatus_.  He did, however enjoy certain aspects of it.  The lingerie modeling was quite titillating.  However, it turned embarrassing when they demanded he return the favor with boxers and…well, there were only two requests for the thong, but they were very strongly worded.  The fact that the wording was delivered personally in the changing cubicle, accompanied by a flash of breasts and a spine-tingling, tonsil-tickling kiss, and Harry found he simply did not have the willpower to say no.  In fact, they all seemed to enjoy shopping for him as much as for himself, and soon had him outfitted in the height of fashion for a young wealthy wizard.

Clothes naturally led to shoes, then they all had to stop for ice cream.  The fact that they were watched by throngs of people wherever they went seemed to be less and less of an issue.  One young witch, just out of Hogwarts herself, came a little too close.

Luna turned to her abruptly and screamed, “Boo!”

The witch screamed right back and almost feinted.

Luna skipped back to join the others with a wide smile on her face.  “I’m scary!” she announced.

They transfigured their magical robes into something less conspicuous and charged into muggle London for lunch.  Hermione introduced them to Indian food.  Susan shied away from it a little, but the rest thoroughly enjoyed it.

They then went muggle shopping.  “You know,” Harry speculated as he and his angels walked down the street, “have you ever wondered why muggle electrical devices don’t work around magic?”

“Magic creates as an electromagnetic pulse,” Hermione explained.  “There have actually been several articles written about the phenomenon in _Arithmancy Today_.  There are ways to solve the problem, magically, and through muggle science. The muggle military has EM-proof technology that functions just fine around magic.”

“Do you know the magical fixes?”

Hermione shrugged.   “I have a laptop at home.  I proofed it my third year after its drive blew up for the second time around me.  Just never figured it would do me any good at Hogwarts.”

Harry smiled.  “What I wouldn’t give for a real, honest-to-God entertainment center.”

“We have no electricity at Hogwarts,” Ginny said.  She knew enough about it from her father.

“There are spells around that,” Hermione said.  “We purchase a large generator and then spell it to be ever running.  I can even ward it to draw off the ambient magical energy of Hogwarts itself.  It’ll never need petrol, and would produce enough wattage to power anything we want.  We’re in a tower, we could set up a pretty nice little satellite system,” she added. 

She suddenly smiled.  “Harry, we could watch Dr. Who!”

“Doctor what?” Luna asked.

“Dr. Who.”

“I don’t know who, that’s why I am asking,” Luna asked.

“Never mind,” Harry and Hermione both said.  Harry then grinned and pointed at a nearby electronics store.  “Let’s do it.  If it works, maybe Professor Vector will give you extra credit.”

\--

\--

Argus Filch stood almost hopping near the gargoyle by the headmaster’s office.  Dumbledore stepped out on his way to breakfast.  “Mr. Filch, what a pleasant surprise.  Do you need to visit the water closet?”

Filch stopped bouncing.  “Them filthy kids’ve gone too far,” Filch said.  “They done something to the top of the castle.  Put a big umbrella up there upside down, looks bad.”

“I’m sure it is something important,” Dumbledore said. 

“It’s trouble, I tell you!” Filch said.

After his breakfast, Dumbledore wandered by the tower and politely asked the stone effigies if he could enter.  They seemed hesitant, but at last moved aside and let the headmaster start up the stairs to the top of the tower.

He emerged to find a sight that strained his old eyes.  Five young girls wearing little more than knickers and T-shirts, and a Harry Potter in boxers, stood cheering loudly before a five-foot wide screen that had a series of images flitting back and forth, accompanied by a blaringly loud noise.

“Oh my,” Dumbledore said as he recognized what could only be a television.  A very large, very expensive television.

“Good morning,” he announced.  He then repeated himself loud to be heard over the noise.  Luna turned and waved at him, and Dumbledore fought to keep his glasses on.  The young Ravenclaw had her knickers on, but nothing else, and her pert young breasts swung freely in the warm morning air as her arm waved.

“Goodness,” he muttered.  “Harry, I don’t suppose I could prevail upon your family to not give an old wizard a heart attack?”

Harry turned and smiled, then looked around as if realizing for the first time that he and his family were not entirely presentable.  Hermione at least had the good grace to blush, as did Susan and Ginny.  Daphne threw the headmaster a rather saucy grin and sashayed back to her room with a sway of hips that would even make a centuagenarian wizard with a penchant for men take notice.  

Luna simply stood there, as if she felt she were already perfectly presentable.  “Luna, sweetie,” Harry said, “why don’t you go get a shirt on before the headmaster faints.”

“Oh, okay,” she said brightly.  She skipped to her room, bouncing all the way.

Harry for his part transfigured some clothes for himself, as did Hermione and Ginny.  “Sorry about that, Headmaster,” Harry said.  “Sometimes we kind of forget about everything else.”

“I can see why,” Dumbledore said.  “A young man with such beautiful wives would indeed have a difficult time focusing on the world.  I actually came up because Mr. Filch was complaining about additions you’ve made to the roof of the castle.  I begin to see what you have done, however.”

Harry turned the television down while the headmaster stepped to the screen.  He eyed the runes carved delicately into the plastic surface not just of the TV, but of the DVD and CD players, the game consoles and a host of other electric muggle devices.  He followed the thick bundle of cables until they disappeared into the wall itself.  It seemed as if the cable melded directly into the stone.

“Hogwarts helped us a bit,” Harry said.  “Hermione and Luna did the arithmancy, Daphne did the runes.  Those girls are brilliant,” Harry said. 

“Yes, Miss Greengrass scored very highly on her runes Owls.”  He smiled.  “In fact, you should be getting your owls very soon. You, Susan, Hermione and Daphne should be very pleased with your scores.  Most especially in DADA.”

“Thank you, sir,” Harry said.  “Do you know when Professor Vector arrives back from holiday?”

“In two weeks time,” Dumbledore said, “and I am certain that she will very much want to see what you have accomplished here.”  He turned back to Harry.  Just then Daphne and Susan emerged from their rooms.  Daphne wore a tight, form-fitting pair of designer jeans with a black halter top that did not entirely hide the black lace of her bra.  Susan wore a snug summer dress.

Luna emerged in a pair of very short shorts and a T-shirt with two teddy bears strategically placed on her shirt.  A caption underneath stated:  “Stop staring at my Teddies.”

Dumbledore blinked and shook his head.  “You are going to give me a heart attack, Harry,” he said.

“I hope not,” Harry said without a trace of humor.  “I’m going to need you.”

“Yes, well, we have a mission today, if you are up to it.”

“The ring?”

“The ring,” Dumbledore agreed.  “Before we leave, I shall finally get to use one of the many pensieve memories I had readied for you.  I’m sure your lovely wives can spare you for a few…”

“No,” Hermione said with an uncompromising voice.  Ginny echoed the sentiment.

Dumbledore blinked.  “Beg pardon?”

“It’s like Harry said,” Hermione declared.  “We’re a package deal.  It’s all or none.”

“Miss Granger..”

“It’s Lady Gryffindor, Headmaster.”

Dumbledore smiled.  “Just so.  Hermione, the purpose of your bonds was to help ensure the continuation of the founder’s lines.  The urgency was because of the danger Harry most certainly will face.  Would not your needlessly placing yourself and your fellow wives in danger completely undo the point of the marriages?”

“What point is that?” Daphne asked.

“To make babies,” Hermione said.  “That’s all we’re here for in the Headmaster’s eyes, is to make babies to continue the lines.”

“I enjoy the making of babies,” Luna said.  “Not sure about the actually cooking of the babies or the delivering of them, but the mixing of the ingredients is quite enjoyable.”

“But what you don’t understand, Headmaster,” Ginny said.

“Is that we love Harry,” Susan continued.

“And we will sooner die ourselves,” Daphne said.

“Than to let him walk alone into danger,” Hermione finished.

Luna looked admiringly at her sister wives.  “That was lovely,” she said.  “Do you think we should form a singing group?”

Harry looked back at the girls, then turned to Dumbledore.  To the aged headmaster, Harry positively glowed with power and affection.  “Like they said, we’re a package deal.”

Dumbledore very slowly nodded.  “A mistake I shall not make again.  Even those of us supposedly gifted with wisdom sometimes miss the true import of important occasions.  I think I begin to see, though, that your marriages were more than just to continue the lines.  They give you strength, Harry.  Just as surely as the Founders have boosted your power, so to do your wives.”

“I know,” Harry said.  “They’re a part of me.”

“Then let us go view the memories I have stored from the House of Gaunt.”

\--

\--

When they emerged from the pensieve later, Daphne shook her head.  “And to think that was Voldemort’s mother.”

“Indeed,” Dumbledore said. 

“A valley just outside of Little Hangelton,” Harry said.  “Not far from the graveyard.”

The girls seemed to sense the change in his voice.  Dumbledore, however, understood.  “Where Mr. Diggory was killed.  Where Voldemort took your blood to revive himself.”

“And now we’re going to take something of his,” Harry said, “to ensure he doesn’t ever do that again.”

“Indeed.”

“Take my hand,” Harry said.  “All of you hold hands.”

Dumbledore found himself holding the left hand of Ginny Weasley and the right hand of Daphne Greengrass and thought, just before Harry broke all laws of magic and apparated the whole lot of them, how odd it was for a Slytherin and a Gryffindor to both hold his hand.

A moment later, they appeared in front of the desecrated tomb of Tom Riddle Sr. 

Harry said nothing as he stared up at the statue of the angel upon which he was originally secured.  He stepped away from them all and knelt down by a bald patch of dirt amid the thick green grass where Cedric Diggory died.

He felt five warm hands on his back, and felt warmth rush into his body.  He stood and turned to see five sets of eyes staring at him with concern and love.  He had to fight to keep the tears from his eyes.  “I can’t believe how lucky I am,” he whispered.

“Neither can we,” Hermione assured him with a smile. 

They walked away from the graveyard down a narrow path lined by high, unkempt hedges.  Finally, they arrived in a small valley sheltered from the bright summer sun by overgrown trees that through the dilapidated house in a dark shade.

“The House of Gaunt,” Dumbledore said.  “I actually meant to come here right after the end of term.  But of course, we know what happened.”

“Yeah, I lost the Dursleys and gained a true family in their stead,” Harry said.  “Well, shall we go?”

He took five steps forward, paused then turned around with a confused look on his face.  He rejoined them.  “What are we doing here?”

“A _confundus_ charm,” Hermione said.

“A powerful one at that,” Dumbledore said.  “Additionally, I would suspect anti-apparation wards, muggle and wizard repelling wards, and likely a whole host of other nasty surprises.  Tom is not quite as nice in setting traps as I am.”

“How do we get in?”  Daphne asked.

“We have to drain the wards,” Ginny said.  “What we really need is a curse breaker.”

Harry grinned.  “You wouldn’t happen to know one, would you?”

“We really must try to keep the horcruxes secret, Harry,” Dumbledore said.

“True,” Harry said.  “We don’t have to tell Bill why we need him.  But why not bring in a true expert?”

And so the whole group of them apparated directly to Diagon Alley to the shock of several nearby wizards and witches, and once more made the trek to Gringotts.

Once more the manager met them with a bow.  “Yes, you might be able to assist,” Harry said.  “Do you hire out your cursebreakers?  I have found an item of my father’s that was cursed by a classmate many years ago, and I would like an expert to take care of it.  I was thinking of Bill Weasley, if he is available.”

“Mr. Weasley is in,” the manager said.  “But his expertise is quite expensive.”  The goblin paused to think about what he was saying.  “So we shall be glad to hire him out to you for as long as you require!”

A few minutes, a curious Bill Weasley strolled out of a side door with Fleur Delacour a step behind.

Four of Harry’s angels bristled at the sight of the numbingly gorgeous half-Veela.  “Relax, girls,” Hermione said.  “Harry was one of the few boys in all of Hogwarts immune from her effects.”

They all turned and stared at Harry.  “I didn’t get it either,” he said.  “Course, now I have all of you.”

“Good answer, Potter,” Daphne said.

Bill and Fleur arrived.  “What’s up, Harry?” he asked.  “You wanted me to break a curse on something of your dad’s?”

“Something like that.”  They all took hands and managed to grab a confused Bill and Fleur, and this Harry dis-apparated them with a thunderous BOOM.

They appeared a moment later on the edge of the Gaunt shack.  “Merlins beard, Harry!” Bill said.  “You just disapparated out of the middle of Gringotts!  The goblins are going to go insane.”

Harry blinked.  “I’m not supposed to do that?”

“C’est impossible!” Fleur said. 

“You’re not supposed to be able to,” Bill translated. “There are some very powerful anti-apparation wards at the bank.”  He shook his head.  “So naturally you can do it.  So, where are we?”

Harry pointed at the shack.  “That’s where Voldemort’s mother grew up.”

Bill’s back stiffened.  Fleur gasped and paled.  “We’re not here for your dad,” he said.

“No,” Harry confirmed.  “We’re here to find a piece of black magic that will be instrumental in Voldemort’s defeat.  I can’t tell you more than that.”

“In fact, Mr. Weasley,” Dumbledore said, “it might actually be better if, in the end, you were to be obliviated for yours and Ms. Delacour’s own safety.”

Bill turned to look at Dumbledore.  “What are we looking for?”

“A ring,” Harry said.  “A ring that bears a part of Voldemort’s soul.”

Bill nodded, thought it over, and then said, “I agree, Headmaster.  I’ll help you, but when we’re done, I don’t want a trace of this memory left in my or Fleur’s head.  It’s too dangerous to everybody.”

“I’m glad you feel that way, Mr. Weasley,” Dumbledore said.  “Now, I understand you have become an accomplished curse breaker since you left my instruction. We could use some of that expertise now.”

Bill rolled up the sleeves of his robe.  “Well then, let’s get to work.”

And work they did.  All of them, even Dumbledore, watched with admiration as Bill Weasley systematically identified, traced out, and then started to break the wards.  He strained at the efforts, and more than once had both Harry and Dumbledore provide magical muscle to the process.  But in the end, they stood at the edge of the shack, looking in.

“I see some very nasty dark spells in there,” Bill said.  His eyes had a slight violet color to them—a spell he put on himself to see the magic of the wards.  “Lightning.  Anyone steps on the floor will get a shock.”

“Any ideas?”

“Oh yes, I love this kind of stuff,” Bill said.  “Everyone, start transfiguring…well, not puppies this time.  Is there an animal everyone wouldn’t mind seeing get fried?”

“I’m not particularly fond of snakes,” Daphne said.

“That’s kind of funny for a Slytherin,” Ginny said.

“You have no idea.”

“I can talk to them, though,” Harry said.  “I don’t want to hear them screaming.”

“How about Chihuahuas?” Luna suggested.

Everyone turned and stared.  “They look like giant rats,” she pointed out.

“Chihuahuas it is,” Harry said.  They all started transfiguring nearby pieces of wood and stone into irritating, yapping little dogs that they then threw into the house.  The dogs yelped as they fried before the lightning, only to revert back to their original states.  Eventually, though, the lightning exhausted itself as the house was filled with half a dozen yapping Chihuahuas.

“Does it make me a bad person to have enjoyed that?” Luna asked.

“No, I think you’re tendency to want to have sex with all of us at the same time takes care of that,” Daphne said.

Bill choked on something and Fleur kindly slapped his back.  She then turned to the girls.  “Vous est tres…naughty,” she finished in English.  “Tres bon.”

“Yes,” Luna said to Fleur with a happy grin.  “We are.  Would you care to join us sometime?”

“Five is enough,” Harry said firmly.  Then he shrugged back to Fleur.  “Although what you do on your own is entirely your business.”

Everyone had the privilege of watching a Veela blush.

“Alright,” Bill said when he collected himself, “I believe the ambient magic has been exhausted.  Let’s go inside.”  They all went in to the cramped, filthy and obviously deserted house.  “Okay,” Bill said.  “If I were a shard of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s soul, I would probably be in that heavily warded compartment just over the fire place.”

“Hmm,” Harry said.  “What would happen if I just blow the whole fireplace out of the house?”

Bill blinked.  “Er, not sure.  I break curses, I don’t break houses.  At the very least, it would take an obscene amount of power.”

Harry nodded and turned to Dumbledore.  “Sir, would you be willing to shield?”

“Of course,” Dumbledore said. 

“We’ll all shield,” Hermione declared.  The headmaster and Harry’s angels all summoned shield spells.  Harry studied the perfect wall his five wives formed from their separate wands, and grinned in admiration. 

He then turned and pulled the memories of his ancestors to the fore.  “ _Híennesse_!” Harry cried.  His wand vibrated as the magic welled from deep within his core and then exploded outward in a wall of translucent red magic.

The spell struck with the concussive force of a bomb and the whole side of the shack disappeared in a cloud of dust and debris.  When the dust settled, the entire wall was gone.

“Merlin’s bloody balls,” Bill muttered.

“Language!” Hermione said.

“That’s right, asshole, stop with the fucking bad language,” Daphne snapped.  She winked at Hermione. 

“Well,” Dumbledore said, “I personally would have not attempted the brute force method, but it seems to have certainly eliminated some of the curses.  Let’s go try to find what we are looking for.”

Bill, though, still had his spellsight on.  “It’s over there, by the tree,” he said.  “It registers black on the curse spectrum.”

Harry didn’t know what that meant, but he could take a good guess.  They walked through the shattered remnants of Voldemort’s ancestral home until they found a small wooden box lying open, with a ring sitting innocently enough on the lid.

Dumbledore stared down at the stone with half-lidded eyes.  “The Resurrection Stone,” he said.  “I’ve been searching for that ring for so very long.”

He reached down for the stone, but suddenly Bill stopped him.  “Don’t,” he said.  “Headmaster, don’t touch it.”

Dumbledore blinked. “But I must.  You don’t understand, I need that stone!”

Everyone turned to stare at the headmaster.  “I don’t think so,” Harry said.  He reached down and grabbed the ring.  It felt so cold it burned.  He quickly slipped it into his pocket.  “You’re not touching it,” he said.  “Like I told you, professor, I’m going to need you.  And getting yourself killed by a stupid horcrux isn’t going to help anyone.”

 

 


	17. In Which Harry Has the Birthday Ever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh to be young.

The following day, in the Chamber of Secrets, Harry, Dumbledore and Harry’s angels set the three recovered horcruxes on the floor not far from the basilisk’s body. The body of the great beast was surprisingly free of decomposition, due to the sheer amount of poison within it, Dumbledore explained.

Seeing the monster made Ginny pale and the others look on Harry with admiration. “Twelve, huh?” Daphne said.

Harry shrugged. “Fawkes helped.”

He held out a hand, and once again Gryffindor’s sword seemed to fall out of nowhere into his fingers. “So, which one first?” He asked Dumbledore.

The headmaster stared forlornly at Gaunt’s ring. “The ring it is,” Harry said. He swung the sword down, and the stone cracked. A wave of the blackest magic imaginable sped through the cave, leaving all them shivering at its passage.

“The locket next,” Harry said.

Suddenly the locket opened. “You cannot touch me!” a voice hissed. “You call yourself my heir! You are nothing! You are….”

Harry silenced the mouthy locket with a sharp swing of the sword, and once again magic of the darkest sort sped through the chamber. He did not even hesitate before he next swung the sword through Hufflepuff’s cup. The last wave of magic spread out and just like that three fragments of Voldemort’s soul were gone.

“Hmm,” Harry said. “Including the diadem and diary, that makes five down. Now what?”

“We begin researching you,” Hermione said. “Soul magic.” She turned to Dumbledore. “And you’re going to give us complete access to the library, aren’t you?”

“And my personal library as well,” Dumbledore assured her. “You may also wish to look through the library at Grimmauld place. The Black family had an extensive library of the dark arts.” He walked over to the cracked stone and placed it in his pocket.

Harry nodded and looked back at the two other broken horcruxes. “Well,” he said, “I guess the easy part’s done.”

\--

\--

The days bled together. Hermione led the charge in research. Daphne and Susan actually proved to be her best compatriots in her quest, and poured through books with her making extensive notes.

Harry spent his days training with Dumbledore, but he also made a point of training with the girls as well. He discovered that the level immediately below their living quarters was a large room that could be used for sparring, and when he was done with Dumbledore each day he would take one or more of the girls and train with them.

“It’s like our own personal DA!” Luna declared.

However, unlike the old DA meetings, when Luna managed to sneak a Jelly-legs jinx on Harry in his attempt to improve her spell aim, she took advantage of his temporary incapacity by banishing his pants and hiking up her skirt.  She wore absolutely nothing underneath but the fine, downy hair that decorated her sex.

“I’m not crying any more,” she said as she climbed onto him with an excited grin.

Of course, Susan came in for her turn at the training at that very moment. “Hey!” she said, “today was my turn!”

Luna looked over her shoulder without missing a beat and smiled. “Well then take your clothes off and join us,” she said.

“Hmmm, okay,” Susan said.  She opened her work robes to expose a pair of very tight shorts and an even tighter white shirt that served like a frame for the beautiful, perfectly formed nipples behind it.  She sauntered over to the rocking couple and leaned over to give Luna a kiss.

The thin white-blonde girl arched up to receive the kiss, lifting herself partially off Harry.  He could see his rod buried only half-way in her, then looked back up at the two beautiful women kissing. 

Then Susan looked back at Harry and dropped the skirt.  “Are you hungry, Harry,” she asked.

“Always.”

 She knelt down and threw her leg over his head, until he stared directly up into her labia, and the swelling breasts beyond.  “Eat me,” she commanded.

“God I love you girls!” Harry declared as the two of them proceeded to make him forget all about training for the next two hours.

Naturally, after that, everyone demanded some one-on-one training time with Harry. Sometimes, they actually even trained for a while before things devolved to kissing, heavy petting, and Harry’s new found fetish of kissing his wives’ legs starting from the inside of their knee to as far north as he could go. And then some.

None of them seemed to object to it.

One thing he did notice before the kissing began, though, was that every one of them seemed stronger than during their DA meetings the previous year. Of course, Daphne never attended, being a Slytherin, but even from earlier this summer he sensed a marked increase in her magical strength.

His wives had received a power boost from their bonding, just like he did.

Eventually, Professor Vector returned from her vacation in Africa and made a show of examining their entertainment center in great detail. She even joined them to watch a marathon of “Sharpe’s Rifles.”

“For a muggle, Sean Baen is quite the looker,” Vector noted.

She congratulated Hermione, Luna and Daphne for the ingeniousness of their work, awarded points to all their houses, and then went back to watching the television for the remainder of the afternoon.

“No, Luna,” Hermione finally had to say in an overloud voice, “the professor is not staying the night, and no, you cannot sleep with her.”

“Bullocks!” Luna said.

That gave the attractive young professor the impetus she needed to leave. After she was gone, Harry looked at the two girls. “So what would you have done if she’d stayed?”

“All sorts of naughty things,” Luna assured him. “Maybe I’ll show you next time it’s my turn.”

Of course, as the days proceeded and Harry’s sixteenth birthday approached, he knew the girls were starting to make their plans for him. He knew it, and at once dreaded it and looked forward to it. Whatever it would be, he knew it would be something to remember.

When July 31st finally rolled around, he was sleeping in the Hufflepuff room. He had a pleasant night with Susan, who of all of them proved to be the most overwhelmingly, aggressively passionate in their lovemaking, which was truly saying something.

That morning, though, something happened he would never have believed. Soft lips brushed against his, and Susan whispered into his ear, “Good morning, Harry.”

He felt a silk cloth draped over his eyes. “What’s this?” he asked.

“It’s part of your gift,” Luna’s voice whispered in his other ear.

Lips brushed against his nose. “Wouldn’t want to peek and ruin the surprise, now, would you?” Daphne said. He felt her bare breasts brush against his chest.

“It’s a special day,” came a truly unexpected voice. Hermione. He recognized her light touch slowly running up the inside of his thigh. “So you’re getting a special treat.”

And finally, lips gently kissed him in the glorious land of the far south. Not fully on his penis—that was one act Ginny wasn’t ready for.  But dangerously close.  “Don’t get used it, though,” Ginny said.

“My God!” Harry gasped, as all five of his wives climbed into the bed with him. Hands passed all over his body. His own hands and feet were very gently restrained by feminine hands, and he did not fight them as he gave himself over wholly to their ministrations. Without his hands to feel them, and with his eyes covered, Harry had no idea who he made love to first. Only that it was as wonderful a thing as any he had ever experienced.

He lost track of time, lost track of everything. The magic in the room grew with orgasmic speed as each of them loved him in their turn. Eventually he lost count, for their strength continued to pour into him, strengthening and renewing them all. Likewise, he could feel his own magic flowing out to them, filling all of them.

“It’s incredible,” he heard Ginny say.

“It’s like it’s been charmed to never deflate,” Luna said.

“How much more do you think he can take?” Daphne said.

“We’ll just have to keep testing him until we find out,” Hermione declared. “Think of it as an experiment.  I mean, if nothing else he should be getting dehydrated.”

Harry’s grin was starting to hurt. “When you’re with me,” he told then, “I can go as long as you want. It’s because of you.”

“Well,” Hermione said. He could tell from her voice that it was her who swung her leg over him and guided him within her warmth. “I guess we’ll just have to keep testing that…hmmm, theory.”

Finally, though, other body functions caught their attention. “I’m hungry,” Luna announced.

“Me too,” Daphne said. “Potter, stop shagging Susan and go make us something to eat.”

“Not until we’re finished!” Susan declared.

At least Harry knew who it was this time.

Eventually, the cloth was removed and Harry could at last see five thoroughly flushed and sweaty girls sitting naked around him. It was the single most beautiful sight he had ever had in the whole of his life. “That was one helluva birthday present,” he declared. He turned inquisitive eyes to Hermione and Ginny. “I thought…”

“It was a special occasion,” Hermione said. She stood up and stretched. The motion pressed her perfect breasts together. “So, I am hungry, but we all really stink. Let’s go take a bath.”

The six of them trooped into the bathroom and a magically enlarged tub, and they very carefully bathed each other until they were squeaky clean. After the bath, they threw on a few clothes and Harry went into the kitchen to prepare a meal for them all.

That night, they had a party that included Dumbledore, McGonagall, most of Gryffindor, the Minister of Magic herself, Lupin and Tonks, Hagrid, Professor Vector (who spent the party on the largest couch in front of the television) and even a few Slytherins. They also had at least some of Harry’s many in-laws. Susan’s parents were both in attendance, as was Luna’s father. Antonius Greengrass and his wife sent a letter politely declining, and of course Hermione’s parents weren’t in attendance.

Surprisingly, Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass came as well. “Draco’s actually been really nice,” Astoria confessed to her sister midway through the evening. “I didn’t know he knew how to be nice.”

“Harry must have slipped him a potion,” Daphne guessed.

Harry, watching from the other side of the room, also noticed how Malfoy was attending to the younger Greengrass. He smiled as Ginny snuggled up into his arm. “What do you think of that?” he asked her.

“I think Malfoy’s pulled his head out of his ass long enough to realize that the Greengrasses produce dead-sexy daughters.”

He hugged her tight, then leaned over and whispered, “Thank you for this morning. It was the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

“Well, from what I understand you’ve only really celebrated six of them, so don’t think that means all that much,” she said. “We’re just establishing the bar.”

Harry continued to watch as his friends and classmates mingled and talked. By mutual consent, the alcohol was put up. Even Luna agreed they were all too young to go on a continuous bender. He was glad they stuck to the mostly harmless butterbeer and pumpkin juice. They also smuggled in some muggle sodas.

“What are you thinking, Harry?” Ginny asked. She was playing with a tuft of hair over his ear.

“I was thinking how unreal all this seems,” he said. “No one should be this happy. It…” He smiled down at her. “I’m just amazed, that’s all. To think just six years ago I was living in a cupboard under the stairs, and now I’m sharing a tower with five of the most beautiful women to ever live, as my wives. It just seems…”

Ginny nodded. Of all his wives, she seemed to be able to interpret his moods the best. Hermione could sometimes read his mind, but Ginny could read his soul. “We’re going to figure out a way,” she said with quiet assurance. “We’re going to figure out a way to beat him without you having to go too. You don’t just have beautiful wives, Harry, you have some very smart ones, too. I know it may not seem like it, but Hermione’s been spending six to seven hours a day in the library. So has Daphne and Susan. I’ve even gone down there a few times.”

“What about Luna?”

“She’s taken it on herself to distract you from thinking about it too much,” Ginny said with a grin.

“Does that…do any of you get jealous of each other? Or upset with me?”

Ginny shrugged. “Harry, when I went down to kiss you that day you asked me to marry you, I had absolutely no idea what I was getting into. It would never have occurred to me a year ago, as much as I loved you even then, that I would be sharing you with four other girls. I can tell you when Hermione figured out what was happening she was just plain furious. But you know what? On the platform, when Luna kissed you, I wasn’t watching you or Luna. I was watching Hermione. She wasn’t angry. She was smiling. We’ve talked about it—you know us girls will talk. We realize that it’s the magic of the bonding. But what helps a lot is the fact that you, Harry Potter, are a good man. A generous, loving, kind man who cares more for others than you do for yourself. Not once have any of us felt that you don’t love us. And this morning…” She actually blushed for the first time in a while. “It was kind of exciting. I never thought I’d say that, but watching all of us like that was nice. Because each one of us knows, deep down, that you’ll never stop loving us.”

“So,” she finally said with a kiss to his cheek, “no, we are not jealous of each other, or upset at you. We love you very much.”

“Thank you,” Harry said.

“We have an announcement!” Hermione announced.

The music from their new CD player went mute as the headwife stood on a dais. “Last year, there was quite a bit of discussion on why Harry Potter was not named as a prefect. Of course, we know why. Professor Dumbledore was afraid that a prefect Harry might very well have hexed Delores Umbridge.”

“Nah, ‘Mione,” Harry tossed back, “you and Ron handled her just fine.”

The whole room cheered. Harry grinned when he saw the cheering crowd included Professor McGonagall.

“Well, I think it is time for Professor Dumbledore to make an amends.”

Dumbledore stood. “Quite right. Well, as Lady Gryffindor has been declared by her sister wives as head wife, it seemed both fitting and inevitable that she be named Head Girl!”

Everyone in the room applauded. While not unheard of for a sixth year to be head student, it was rare.

“And, given that fact, it seemed equally fitting and inevitable that her husband be made Head Boy!”

Loud, raucous applause followed. “Oh, but we’re not done,” Dumbledore said. “Given the truly historic nature of Harry’s role in this castle, and the roles of his wives, Lady Ravenclaw is to be a prefect of her house, as are Ladies Hufflepuff and Slytherin. And since Lady Gryffindor has assumed the role of head girl, well then, Mrs. Potter, I’m afraid you will have to take the role of the fifth-year prefect for your house.”

More applause.

“As you know,” Dumbledore said, “many things are happening in the world that are less than happy occasions. Fifteen years ago, many of your parents lifted their wands up to help fight back the darkness. Now, sadly, it is going to be your fight. That is why I have asked Harry to start the DA again. Only this time, you will have special instruction from Ministry-approved aurors. And I see some of you shudder at the thought of Ministry interference. I would suggest you ask Susan, Lady Hufflepuff, if the ministry is not a far better place than it was just two short months ago.”

The mood had grown somber as Dumbledore looked around the room. “You are among the finest students I have ever had in this school,” he finally said. “I do not doubt for a moment that Professor McGonagall would agree with me.”

“You know I do,” Minerva said.

“You have been through trials no other students in the history of this castle have been through, and yet through it all you are still able to take joy in simple things, such as the birthday of a good friend. So, I will raise a toast now to this good friend. To Harry Potter, the new champion of the light, may his goodness and love stay with us for always.”

“Here here!” came the calls.

“Presents!” Luna called out.

Suddenly, a pile of gifts appeared in the center of the room. Harry stared at them in shock. “All those are for me?” he asked, speechless.

“Don’t get too excited, Potter,” Daphne said with a happy grin, “we used your money to buy most of this stuff.”

That raised quite a laugh, but Harry was still speechless as all five of his angels led him by the hands toward the pile, and then formed a conveyor belt to get gifts to him. There were clothes, books, candies, video games for their new console, a laptop computer (already magic-proofed, Hermione assured him) and even a few bottles of wine.

The final gift, though, took him a bit by surprise. It was a set of gold rings with a rainbow of colors. The first was set with a beautiful ruby, the second was set with an emerald, the third with a yellow sapphire, the fourth with a blue sapphire, and the fifth with a diamond. Each was easily three carats or more. And attached to them was a large gold band inset with the same five stones, each .05 carats in size.

He could feel magic in them, and realized without being told that they were all portkeys, keyed to his band.

Harry stared at the ring set for so long, people began to suspect something was wrong. He looked up, red-eyed, and saw his wives—his family—staring back at him in a line. He lifted the rings out of the silver box and walked toward Hermione first. He took the ring with the ruby, and slipped it onto her wedding ring finger. As he did so, he leaned over and tenderly kissed her. “I vow to love you for the rest of my days,” he said softly to her.

“As do I,” she smiled back. He turned to Luna, who stood smiling brilliantly. He took the ring with the blue sapphire and slipped it onto her finger, leaned over and kissed her with the same tenderness. “I vow to love you for the rest of my days.”

“As do I,” she said. Her silver-grey eyes glistened.

He moved on to Daphne, slipping the emerald on her finger. She was not teary-eyed, but her cheeks definitely flushed. Susan slipped him a little tongue, causing both to grin. Finally, he came to Ginny. He took the last ring—the colorless pure diamond—and slipped it on her finger. “I vow to love you for the rest of my days,” he said.

“You’d better,” Ginny grinned. They kissed.

All five girls then took the larger gold band. They passed it amongst themselves, passing it by their lips, until finally Ginny took it, kissed it, and slipped it on his finger.

The other guests realized fairly quickly that something was happening beyond mere gifts. They watched as the rings were exchanged, and when it was done they all applauded politely as the six of them converged for a group hug.

They all laughed as five hands managed to wrap around and give Harry’s bum a solid squeeze.

It was, all in all, the best birthday ever.

* * *

[Author’s note: I admit fully that the idea of the portkey rings is not entirely original. I believe originally it was a portkey necklace for Molly and the Weasleys. I’m afraid I can’t remember exactly what story the original idea was in, but I freely admit that this concept is not originally mine.]

 


	18. In Which The Prime MInister Gets Boned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damn that pun again!

A cough.

The man at the elegant desk looked up from a long and painfully boring memo, and stared around the room with wide-eyes. “Hello?”

In the far corner of the spacious office, a voice responded at once. It came from the portrait of a man of amphibian appearance wearing a long silver wig. “To the Prime Minister of Muggles. Urgent we meet. Kindly respond immediately. Sincerely, Bones.”

“Bones, who is that?” he asked.

The portrait stared back primly. “The Minister of Magic. Kindly respond.”

“What happened to Fudge?”

“Kindly respond.”

“Oh, very well. Yes, I’ll see this Bones.”

The Prime Minister of England hurried back to his desk and started to arrange his tie, when he realized he had removed it hours ago. He tried to summon his calmest expression when bright green flames burst into life in the empty grate beneath his marble mantelpiece.

An attractive woman of middle age wearing what looked like a magistrate’s robe stepped out of the flame and with great dignity wiped ash and soot from her black sleeves. She wore a monocle in her left eye, which she let fall as she looked up to face him.

“Prime Minister Bryant?”

He nodded, dumbfounded. “Yes.”

“Amelia Bones, Minister of Magic.” She stepped forward and offered a hand. It was the first time since he assumed office that a magical had actually greeted him like a human being, and not like some talking animal.

He took the offered hand. “Adam Bryant, a pleasure,” he said, and he was surprised that it was true. “Please, Minister, have a seat.”

“Thank you,” she said. She sat with a sigh. “I sincerely apologize for the late hour. The notes left by my predecessor said you tended to work late, and we’ve always felt it was less disruptive to contact heads of state in as discreet a manner as possible.”

“It’s appreciated,” the minister said. “Your predecessor, may I ask…”

“He was voted out of office. It’s a long story, and not a very pleasant one, which is why I wanted to come in person and speak to you.”

“Would you like some tea?”

“Much too late, but thank you,” she said.

“Perhaps some Scotch or a nice brandy?”

“That I might be able to handle,” she said with a genuine smile.

He pulled out his private stash and poured a generous amount into two crystal glasses and handed her one. She sipped it with what appeared to be an appreciation of fine liquor.

“Exquisite,” she said. “It is a privilege to share such a good year.”

“It is a privilege to be spoken to like a human being,” Bryant said. He kept his tone light, but he could not completely hide the resentment.

She nodded thoughtfully. “I respect your feelings on the magical world, Prime Minister.”

“After midnight it is Adam.”

“And Amelia for me as well,” she said, again with the pleasant smile. “I am here, minister, because roughly a month ago, the most powerful dark wizard in the world attacked my home and nearly killed me. Others did die. Magical England is, for all intents and purposes, in a state of civil war.”

Bryant stiffened. “I…what does that mean, exactly? Fudge said you had everything in hand.”

“Which is why he is my predecessor, and not my boss,” she said bluntly. “There have been three significant issues which you should be aware of, and several smaller ones. The collapse of the Brockdale Bridge was not caused by engineering failures. It was not a hurricane that wiped out that village in the West Country. And Herbert Chorley was magically spelled to sneak into this building and murder you.”

Adam Bryant set down his glass. “Excuse me?”

“The war we are fighting is one of racial purity,” Amelia explained. “The Dark Wizard is named Lord Voldemort, and he has convinced many of the older, pureblooded magical families to aid him in wiping out the muggle…” she shook her head. “Forgive me, he intends to kill all magical children born to non-magical families. And when he is done, he fully intends to start killing the non-magical population in his bid to control first England, and then the world. Brockdale Bridge was an act of terrorism. As was the West Country. It was an act of terrorism carried out by wizards and witches.”

Bryant fought hard to control his pulse. “Amelia,” he said, “are you telling me that a whole village destroyed, with trees uprooted, roofs ripped off, lampposts bent, deaths and injuries uncounted, across a five-mile wide swatch of land, was a work of terrorists?”

She nodded. “He brought in giants. Giants, werewolves and even a few vampires.”

He lifted his glass and took a very long drought. “This is insane.”

“Yes, it is,” she said. “He almost killed my niece. I consider myself a fairly powerful witch, Adam. You do not advance far without power to back your wit in our world. And yet, I was almost defenseless against him. If not for Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore, both I and my niece Susan would have died.”

“I’ve heard those names.”

“I’m sure you have. Albus Dumbledore helped your people defeat Hitler by defeating the wizard who guided him, and Harry…Harry is the next generation of Dumbledore, a young wizard with astounding power and an utter lack of anything that could be called bad. It was, in fact, after a long conversation with Harry and two of his wives that made me realize that I needed to speak to you.”

Bryant nodded. “So your people practice plural marriages, then?”

“It’s a legal loophole,” she said. “A very long and complicated story. I’m actually quite happy my niece is one of his brides.”

“I see.”

Amelia laughed, and he was surprised at how utterly ordinary and human it sounded. “That’s how my cohorts in the Ministry responded as well,” she said. “Even among my people, the magic that led to Harry having five wives is unique. But that’s another story entirely. I am here to offer you a complete, unbiased picture of what is happening in our world, and to ask for your permission to assign wizard guards to your security retinue.”

“You think…”

“As I said, Adam, Herbert Chorley was coming to kill you. There is a very dark spell, the use of which automatically means a life term in our prison, that allows a wizard to control another. It is the _Imperius_ curse, and Chorley was under this curse. Voldemort sees the deaths of you and other important non-magical officials as a way to destabilize your government, which will only aid him in his conquests later.”

“And why is this the first I’ve heard of all this?”

“My predecessor had much to atone for,” she said. “He’s currently being investigated for several criminal issues. I, while I am starting late, do not intend to repeat his mistakes. I have a group of aurors—magical police—who have been either been trained to fit into the muggle world, or who are actually muggleborn. Their sole job would be to protect you and members of your cabinet. We’ve already positioned similar officers around the royal family.”

“Does Her Majesty know of you?”

“Of course,” Bones said. “Her ancestors ratified our current treaty with you.”

“So what do we do next?”

She removed a roll of what looked like parchment from her robes. “This is a list of images and names. I’ve made sure the images are static—I know it would upset your people to have wizarding photographs. These are the known Death Eaters in service to Voldemort. We have a sketch of Voldemort as well, but frankly for your safety I would recommend if any of you see him that you turn and run as fast as you can.”

“We are not without our defenses.”

“Minister, I know that,” Amelia said. “I am painfully aware that, despite the arrogant assumptions of my fellow Purebloods, wizard kind lives at the suffrage of the non-magical world. For all our spells, we are very few. But wizards like Voldemort are not like the rest of us. To give you perspective, Prime Minister, in terms of personal power one of your soldiers with a gun is a rock. I, as a trained witch, am a pistol. Voldemort is a mucular weapon.”

Adam stared, then felt his lips twitch. “Did you mean nuclear?”

Amelia stared wide-eyed. “Drat! And I practiced that word, too. Ruined that analogy, didn’t I? But I trust, Minister, that you understand what I’m trying to say. Voldemort is not just twice as powerful as the next powerful witch or wizard. He is a thousand times more powerful than most. If you were to attack him with an entire army, your army would die. Not because their weapons cannot harm wizards or witches. I assure you they can. But because Voldemort is so far beyond normal wizards and witches.”

“And this Harry Potter?”

“He may be the only one approaching Lord Voldemort’s power. There is also the matter of a prophecy, but I doubt you’d be interested in that. In the meantime, we have squads of ministry officials out in the country side trying to repair what they can. We’ve been forced to alter some memories, as I’m sure you’d agree stories of giants would do none of us any good.”

Bryant nodded. “And the people on this list?”

“Treat them as the most dangerous terrorists you have ever encountered. Use any means at your disposal to find and track them. If you need magical assistance, ask one of your guards. If you think you can take them out, feel free to do so. If your people surround one and see a wand, they should consider it a deadly weapon, for it truly is.” She removed a second scroll. “If you approve of being assigned guards, these are the names and images of those we’d assign to you, your family, and your cabinet. I’d give you more, but honestly I don’t have the resources.”

He looked over the list not of potential guards, but of Death Eaters. “One of these terrorists is listed as a werewolf.”

“That would be Fenrir Greyback. He enjoys attacking children, minister. Some he infects with his lycanthropy. Others he simply eats. These are true monsters, Adam. Men we have been hunting for a decade. They are dangerous, but we suspect they have had the success they had because of the utter failure of my predecessor’s to communicate with yours. After this meeting, I will ensure that you receive regular reports of what is happening. I will also make myself available should you have questions or concerns. The portrait is linked to one in my office, and if I am not available one of my secretaries will contact me.”

“That is most generous of you, Amelia.”

She finished her brandy. “I know Fudge and his ilk treated you and the prior Prime Ministers poorly. This was the arrogance of the magical world, coupled with fear. You are shorter-lived than we are, and change things very quickly. The magical world resists change, since we have magic to depend on. You can imagine then where some of the ill feeling comes from.”

“But you’re different?”

“One of my niece’s sister wives is a girl named Hermione Granger. She had to mind-wipe her non-magical parents and send them to Australia to keep Death Eaters from killing them. She told me that muggles like her parents were as much victims as we were, and that it was criminal that they were not given sufficient information to make informed decisions for their own well being. I agree with her.”

“I appreciate that,” Bryant said. “I will forward these names to our domestic security agencies.”

“Thank you, Adam.” Amelia stood. “It was a genuine pleasure to meet you, and I hope that the next time we meet face to face, it will be to discuss more pleasure circumstances.”

“I hope so as well,” Prime Minister Bryant said.

She smiled at him, and then disappeared with a loud crack.

Bryant sat down, and finished the entire bottle of Brandy.

\--

\--

The end of summer shopping trip for supplies turned into an all day affair as Harry and his wives once more descended like a maelstrom onto Diagon Alley. They were joined by Ron, who had been nominated by Dumbledore as the male prefect for Gryffindor, Neville, Hannah Abbot, Katie Bell and many others. In fact, a good portion of three of the four houses just happened to arrive at the same time.

At first Harry wanted to believe they formed such a large group for friendship. However, Katie Bell shrugged. “It’s scary out there,” she said. “It feels safer with you.”

Harry had no objection, and in fact thoroughly enjoyed it. For a brief window, Diagon Alley became a thriving community once more as much of the Hogwarts students and their families arrived to do their shopping.

A few weeks after Harry’s, they celebrated Ginny’s birthday. Harry bought her a Firebolt Five, the newest and fastest model of broom made. The girls bought her enough lingerie, cosmetics and perfume to keep her looking sexy and smelling better for life.

Her brothers bought her dragon hide armor.

As a final gift, Hermione switched turns that night. Harry’s second present to her was a very long full body rub with a message oil he found in the apothecary. It was Ginny’s best birthday ever, she assured him.

In fact, it was such a good birthday she assured him four times.

Eventually, though, summer had to end. Harry knew it, his angels knew it, and somehow he suspected Voldemort knew it as well. So on August 31st, Harry and his wives lounged atop their tower, sipping butterbeer and mimosas, while Harry stared across the valley at Hogsmeade.

“What are you thinking?” Ginny asked as she stepped up beside him. She wore a pink string bikini top and a pair of very short cut-offs. Her broad-rimmed hat helped shield her delicate pale skin from the sun, though her shoulders were starting to freckle.

“Voldemort suffered a defeat this summer,” Harry said. “At Minister Bones’s house.”

“Yeah.”

“He’s planning something.”

The other girls ceased their quiet conversations and looked at Harry. “Is this the scar talking?” Ginny asked.

“I think so. He’s closed his mind off, but I can feel his anticipation. He’s excited about something.”

“That can’t be good,” Hermione said. She also wore a bikini top, but with the corresponding bottom, both lime green. “What do you think it is?”

Harry pointed not at Hogsmeade, but at the Hogwarts Express which was just starting to pull out of the station for London, where it would pick up the students. “What do you think would happen if Voldemort could either capture or kill every magical student of age in England all at once?”

Hermione blanched, as did the others. “Are you sure that’s what he’s going to do?” Daphne demanded. Daphne, ever the pagan pureblood, just lounged nude. In her mind, bikinis were obscene.

“No, I’m not, and that’s just it,” Harry said. He didn’t bother looking away from his Slytherin wife. She was dead sexy clothed or otherwise, and his other wives would be the first to admit it. “He’s closed his mind off completely. But if I wanted to really shake up the magical world, what better way to do that then to attack the magical world’s children?”

“What’ll we do?” Susan asked. She simply wore a summer dress with no bra underneath. It was as intoxicating in its own way as Daphne’s state of dress.

Luna, of course, wore her school tie and witches hat, and nothing else.

“We need to tell Dumbledore and Minister Bones,” Harry said. “And then coordinate a plan.”

An hour later, once everyone made themselves more presentable, Dumbledore listened in silence, but nodded. “Harry, I think you’ve stumbled onto something,” he finally said.

An hour after that, Minister Bones paled. That alone was sufficient proof that she believed the threat to be real. An hour after that, they had a rushed dinner-time conference with Rufus Scrimgeour, who upon Amelia’s elevation to minister assumed her role over the DMLE, and Gawain Robards, the new Head Auror following Scrimguaer’s promotion.

The Head Auror listened to Harry’s concerns, nodded once, and said, “That’s exactly what we thought.”

Harry blinked. “What?”

“We’ve already planned to have aurors disillusioned on broomsticks to accompany the train to school,” the head auror said. “With a heavy division stationed at King’s Cross and Hogsmeade.”

“What do you know?” Daphne muttered. “Minister officials who actually know what they’re doing. Next we’ll have honest Wizengamot members.”

Scrimgeour glared at Lady Slytherin, but Robards actually laughed. “Let’s not get too optimistic over that last, shall we?”

“Can I make a suggestion?” Harry said.

“The fact the Minister of Magic has you here implies you can share your thoughts,” Robards said.

“Portkey all students below sixth year directly to the school,” Harry said. “Plus anyone else who didn’t participate in the Defense Association last year, or anyone who doesn’t want to. The rest of us will stay on the train to assist. If we have Professor Dumbledore with us, we might be able to raise anti-apparition and anti-portkey wards strong enough to actually catch some of them.”

Bones shook her head. “We’re not placing anyone at unnecessary risk, most especially not school children.”

“Madame Bones,” Dumbledore said in a quiet, commanding tone, “these are not ordinary school children. As you know, Harry and Hermione both have placed out of their sixth years and will be sitting for NEWTS this year. But, more than that, two days ago Harry defeated me in a wizard’s duel.”

They were in the Minister’s office, and with those words the room fell as quiet as if they were in the vacuum of space itself.

“He what?”

“Harry is the Heir of the Founders. This isn’t just a title. Although I have been training him with everything I know, Hogwarts herself has also been training him. He has access to memories and spells from the Founders themselves, who remain to this day the most powerful wizards and witches since Merlin. The Sword of Gryffindor appears at his beck and call. I have reason to believe that just as his power has been greatly increased by his magical inheritance, so too has the power of his wives. Two days ago, he disarmed me and took my wand.”

“That’s true about the power boosts,” Hermione noted. “My own spell strength has doubled.”

“Yeah, but your skipping sixth year was all you,” Harry said. “I got help.”

Hermione shrugged. “Professor Vector really liked our TV.”

The other wives nodded.

“Aside from know it all head-wives,” Ginny said with a smile, “you should see our group Protego. Nothing short of an unforgivable can get through it.”

Harry smiled back at his angels. “I may be young, but prophecy and fate have put me squarely against Voldemort. I told you I would work with you, Minister Bones, and it goes both ways. I need to be a part of any actions you take against Voldemort.”

“I’m very uncomfortable with this whole thing,” Scrimgeour said. “You’re just kids. A boy and five girls.”

“Lord Hogwarts, and five Ladies,” Harry corrected him with a glint in his eyes.

Amelia turned to Susan. “What do you think?”

“I think that if we were back at your house that night, with the five of us together and Harry, Voldemort would be dead,” Susan said.

Amelia nodded. “Perhaps so.” She looked to Scrimgeour and then Robards. “Rufus, I understand your concerns and ordinarily I would share them. While I don’t approve of having sixth and seventh-year students on the train, I do approve of Harry and his wives being there if Gawain can work with them.”

“I can work with it,” Robards said. “And frankly, I may have a solution to the students as well. Assuming, of course, that we have sufficient polyjuice potion in ours stores.”

Harry’s eyes widened, then he grinned at the head auror. “I really like the way you think, sir.”

\--

\--

September 1st dawned overcast and muggy. The air felt as thick as down and left a sheen of moisture that was not quite sweat, but not quite rain on the skin of anyone unfortunate enough to have to be in it.

Harry and Hermione wore their Head Boy and Head Girl badges and stood on the platform watching as all the students mingled around the platform. First years stood beside sixth and seventh years, all equally unsure of what was happening. Aurors appeared to be everywhere.

Eventually, not seeing any reason to do otherwise, students climbed in and started claiming their compartments. No one seemed concerned by the fact that the aurors all seemed to disappear from the station.

With a blast of its horn, the great locomotive surged forward, causing all the cars to clank together, until the train began its long trek to Scotland. Once the train had left the platform, Harry, Hermione, and the prefects (many of which were his wives) stood and left the prefect compartment.

Ginny and Luna remained at the prefect cabin, while the rest started looking into each compartment. “First years,” Harry announced. “Any first years? First years report to the prefects cabin. First years?” They went through the whole train, picking out the sadly small number of first years.

Once the cautious grouping of eleven-year olds were gathered together, Ginny smiled at them. “Hello, my name is Ginny Potter. I’m a fifth year prefect for Gryffindor House. You’ll learn all about the houses later. This is my friend Luna Ravenclaw, she’s a prefect for Ravenclaw House. Now, Luna’s coming around with a pair of scissors, and she’s going to cut a little bit of your hair. Don’t worry, I promise it won’t hurt. Now, who here knows what a portkey is?”

A few pure and halfbloods raised their hands. “Good,” Ginny said. “For those who don’t know, a portkey is any object that has a spell on it that will take you someplace else.” She held up a length of rope. “This rope has been spelled by Headmaster Dumbledore himself to portkey you directly to the great hall in Hogwarts.”

“I wanted to ride the train!” a little girl said.

Ginny smiled in sympathy. “I know. But, you see, riding a portkey is really fun. It feels like you’re flying! And it’ll get you there in about a minute. Now, I want everyone to grab onto this rope. Everyone hanging on? All right, one, two, three, _portus_!”

A moment later, all the first years were gone. Just then, the first grouping of second-years arrived, and once more Luna began snipping hair. By the time they finished with the third years, the fourth years started to figure out something was happening.

“This is about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named,” a Gryffindor said. “Right?”

“Just call him Voldemort, Mitch,” Ginny said. “And yes, it is. Everyone have a hold of the rope? Good. Hang on!”

It took less than an hour to evacuate the whole train of students. Only then did the ministry aurors begin climbing out of the baggage cars with their flasks of polyjuice potion ready and waiting for the hair samples.

Although the ministry was not able to field sufficient aurors to equal the same number of students, there were enough to give the illusion of a train full of children.

Harry, his angels, plus those prefects who due to gender and preference had no desire to marry the Boy Who Lived, returned to the prefect’s car.

Draco Malfoy looked down at his badge with a rueful shake of his head. “I can’t believe I have this,” he muttered.

“My neither,” Greengrass said. “If I catch you abusing it, I’ll kick your ass.”

“I know,” Draco assured her. He turned to Potter. “You’re sure they’ll be an attack?”

“I’m sure. I’m just not sure it’ll be on the train. He may attack Hogsmead, Hogwarts or even the Ministry itself. I can’t know for sure. But I just can’t help but think that if I were a terrorist wanting to bring Magical Britain to its knees, destroying a train full of children would be a perfect way to do it.”

“And I’m supposed to fight the Death Eaters?” Malfoy said.

Harry stood staring at the boy for the longest time. “Maybe not,” he said.

Malfoy blanched. “What?”

“As far as Voldemort knows, you’re still going to try and carry out your mission to kill Dumbledore. If you openly fight against Riddle, it puts both Snape and yourself at risk. So, if there is an attack, hang low. If you need to, even shoot a spell or two at me. I can block it. Just be prepared for a stunner. That may be enough to convince your former master that you’re still his.”

“But why do that?” Hermione demanded.

Harry shrugged. “I honestly don’t know for sure. There was a reason Dumbledore didn’t want me to remove Snape’s mark. He wants an inside track to Riddle. Maybe we should have ours as well.”

Daphne turned an appraising eye on Draco. “Potter, I’m not sure Malfoy’s spy material.”

“I know I’m not spy material,” the Slytherine said with unusual humility. “I lasted a whole whopping week as a Death Eater.”

“You’re not going to have to spy, just be a git,” Harry said. “That shouldn’t be too hard.”

Malfoy snorted. “You should know.”

The other prefects were all DA members who were informed of the plan and chose to stay aboard. Harry vouched for them to Robards, but as he studied their nervous faces he couldn’t help but wonder if it was a mistake.

He started to say something when they heard a loud, thunderous explosion followed by a violent deceleration. “Well, that answers that question,” Harry muttered as he and the rest of them picked themselves up off the floor. “Anyone hurt?”

Everyone shook their heads. That’s when they heard the first spellfire. Suddenly his scar flared with pain. “He’s here!” Harry hissed. “Everyone get ready!”

 


	19. In Which The Dark Lord and The Heir Have Tea and Crumpets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest, I'm not entirely sure what a crumpet is.

Harry rushed out of the prefect’s car with the others on his heel. He met a person who looked like Dean Thomas, but carried Gawain Robard’s wand. “We count over forty Death Eaters,” Robards said.

“Voldemort himself is here as well,” Harry said.

“That’s a good percentage of his forces,” Robards noted. “Make a show of herding us toward the back. Feel free to shout and scream in panic.”

“Move now!” Harry screamed without any further prompting. “All students move to the back of the train. Move, move, move!”

The polyjuiced aurors made a very good show of panic. A few of the witches and some of the supposedly younger wizards even screamed in fear. Behind Harry and his angels he heard a loud crash that not only numbed their ears, but caused the entire train to rock on its tracks.

He turned and saw silver-masked Death Eaters moving through the narrow aisle of the train.

Harry stopped and the prefects moved quickly behind him. The lead Death Eaters raised their wands. “Ladies,” Harry said. He didn’t mean to sound smug—that was not the right tone, he knew.

As one, Hermione, Luna, Susan, Daphne and Ginny raised their wands and shouted “ _Protego!”_

The combined magical shield that formed in front of them was so thick they could barely even see the spellfire splashing against it.

“Merlin’s beard,” Robard said from behind them all. “What is that?”

“That is what happens when you mess with Potter’s Angels,” Hermione said.

Robards nodded. “Keep it up. Aurors, raise the wards!”

Behind him, all sign of panic among the students ceased. They stood straight and ready, whether they looked like 11-year-old first years or 17-year-old seventh years. Half of them un-shrank brooms from their pockets. Those with brooms headed for the door of the last compartment, while more and more Death Eaters found themselves up against the nearly impenetrable shield.

“Harry,” Hermione said. He turned at the urgency of her voice and saw sweat beading on her brow.

“Voldemort’s here,” he interpreted.

She nodded. Their shield started turning red, and suddenly with crack like breaking glass the shield shattered. At the head of the Death Eaters stood the Dark Lord himself. His nasal slits were flared; his red eyes gleaming. “Potter and his whores,” Voldemort said. “Do you really think you can stand up to me?”

“I don’t know for sure, Tom,” Harry said, using Dumbledore’s tactic of calling him by his half-blood name. “But I’m willing to find out.”

“I’m going to kill your whores first,” Voldemort said. “The next time you see them they will be as inferi seeking after your intestines.”

“That’s gross,” Luna said.

“I don’t want to listen any more,” Hermione agreed. All five women held up their hands and gave Voldemort a bent-finger wave. They then disappeared with a pop as five portkeys activated. The Dark Lord’s anti-apparition wards did nothing against the portkeys, since portkey was his own emergency plan.

“Second wards up!” Robards shouted when he saw the last of the non-combatants leave.

It was about this time that the polyjuice started to wear off. Dean Thomas shifted before the Dark Lord’s eyes to Gawain Robards. Behind him, other children suddenly melted into serious-faced aurors. Voldemort hissed and raised his wand, and Harry responded as well.

“ _Avada Kedavra_!”

“ _Diffindo!”_

Harry knew the exact spell did not even really matter. As their two bursts of magic struck each other, _priori incatatum_ took effect just as it did in the cemetery. “Now!” Harry shouted at Robards.

“Aurors, attack!” Robards said in a resounding roar with his wand to his throat. His command echoed across the train. Twenty aurors on brooms zipped to the edge of the train and started firing into the train cars. Death Eaters began falling, and not to stunners.

Amelia Bones was no Fudge, and Robards was no Crouch or Scrimgeour. He knew this was war, and he had the full support of the Minister for Magic. There were no stunners. The aurors were launching bone-breakers, cutting curses and other lethal spells. The first Death Eaters fell in a spray of blood.

Voldemort barely had the opportunity to see his followers dying. “What have you been doing, Potter?” the Dark Lord hissed. His face was warped by rage and concentration. Bursts of magic balled along the stream of the magic connecting their wands.

“I’ve been living for the first time,” Harry said. “You think you know what power is, Voldemort? You’re wrong. Power isn’t making everyone run from you in terror. Power is making the woman you love smile. Power is making those around you feel safer. You have fear, but I have power.”

“You are a stupid, foolish little boy!”

“Then do something about it, Tom,” Harry said in a heated rush. He was doing his very best to keep his voice steady, but he was pouring every ounce of magic he had into the silent duel. “Don’t just stand there.”

With an angry roar, Voldemort ripped his wand away and waved a hand at a compartment. The burst of wandless magic ripped through the walls of the train car. “We are not done,” Voldemort growled. He then did the most frightening thing Harry had ever seen.

Voldemort flew. He soared through the shattered car walls and with almost casual waves of his wand sent five aurors falling from their brooms, already dead. Those Death Eaters who survived the initial assault followed their Lord’s example. Blasting curses blew through the cars up and down the train. Death Eaters jumped out under continued fire from the aurors and un-shrank their own brooms.

The battle escalated as the two sides opened up beside the train cars. Harry jumped out at Robard’s side, firing into fleeing Death Eaters. He barely had warning as Voldemort spun in mid air and launched a powerful curse.

“Move!” Harry said. He threw himself at Robards while tossing a wandless banishment spell behind him. The spell had the effect of thrust and caused Harry to hit Robard’s like a missile. Voldemort’s spell struck the ground where the two stood less than a second after Harry left and ripped a huge gouge into the soil that continued up into the tracks themselves.

He and Robards rolled and looked up to see the Dark Lord targeting individual aurors. He was losing Death Eaters, yes, but the ministry was also losing its people as well.

Harry picked himself up and stood as if in a trance while around him Death Eaters and aurors fought for their lives while Voldemort acted the part of magic artillery, killing at well. Harry felt anger welling in his heart, but something else as well.

These people were fighting and dying for him. For his wives. For England. Their faces were set and determined. Those that fell under Voldemort’s magic did so knowing the risk. They gave their own lives and did not back down at all.

Harry imagined himself and his wives among their number. He saw his beautiful angels falling before Voldemort.

Determination flooded his veins, and power flooded his limbs as a host of spells flitted through his mind. The memories of the four most powerful wizards in history welled within him, and suddenly Harry understood exactly how Voldemort was defying gravity. The Dark Lord was using an altered parseltongue self-leviosa spell first developed by Slytherin himself, but lost to time due to the fact most wizards and witches did not have the power to use it.

Harry was not most wizards. He wandlessly cast the spell on himself, and to Robard’s shock he too lifted into the air. “Tom Riddle!” Harry cried out. “ _Bein Brechen_!”

The Bone Crusher spell ripped through the air. Voldemort did not have time to use his wand, but did not need it. He raised a powerful shield spell wandlessly, but Harry had poured every ounce of his power into the assault.

Death Eaters and Aurors alike watched in shock as Harry’s spell struck and shattered Voldemort’s shield. As powerful as the assault was, it was barely sufficient to destroy the shield but not powerful enough to do any more. Still, the sheer physical force of the exchange sent the Dark Lord spinning from the air. He landed on a grassy hill perhaps a hundred feet from the train and just outside the anti-apparition and anti-portkey wards the aurors had established. Harry floated gently to the ground and faced the shocked Dark Lord. “This can’t continue, Tom,” Harry said. “It’s going to end. Either now, or later, but it will end. I will end it.”

“You are just a boy, Potter,” Voldemort hissed in rage. “But for our brother wands you would be dead already.”

“So it seems,” Harry said.

“To me!” Voldemort screamed. He spun and dis-apparated away. The Death Eaters left their fallen comrades and scrambled for the edge of the wards. The aurors overcame their shock at the exchange and opened fire again. Death Eaters fell, but many also escaped.

In moments, the battle was over. Harry stood exactly where he had landed, staring at the spot Voldemort stood. He became aware of a hand on his shoulder and looked up at Robards. “You okay?” the head auror said.

“I did it,” Harry whispered, shocked. He noticed only then that his hands were shaking. “I stood up to the Dark Lord. This wasn’t an accident or a stroke of luck. “

“No, it wasn’t,” Robards agreed. “You’ve proven you have a right to stand on this field. You’ve proven you are the heir of the founders, Harry.”

Harry slowly turned and watched as the aurors began going through the bodies. “You should go now, Harry,” Robards said. “You don’t have to see this.”

“I do,” Harry whispered. He stepped toward the nearest red-robed figure. It was a witch only a few years older than he was, and she was clearly dead. Next to her, though, he could see an older auror who was still alive but seriously wounded.

Harry knelt down beside the man and placed his hands on the man’s shoulders. He willed the magic from his hands, but it wasn’t enough. He needed… “Dobby!”

The house elf appeared with a pop. “Master Harry Potter sir calls Dobby?”

“I need my wives, Dobby,” Harry said. “Can you tell them to portkey to my ring? The wards are down now.”

Dobby nodded and disappeared with a snap of his fingers. Just a minute later, his wives arrived via their ring portkeys. Dumbledore appeared moments later.

“Harry!” Hermione said. “What’s wrong?”

“We have wounded,” Harry said, motioning toward the fallen aurors. “I need you.”

“We’re here,” Ginny said without hesitation. The other four nodded firmly.

Robards watched, bemused, as the five beautiful young woman stood at Harry’s back. Whatever he was expecting, it was more than just the five of them placing hands on the wizard’s back. And yet, when they did so the head auror watched as Harry straightened and flushed with power. He then leaned forward and wrapped the injured auror in a hug. He whispered into the man’s ear, and suddenly the man’s sallow complexion flushed red, and his eyes opened.

Harry let go and the man stayed sitting upright, confused and apparently completely healed. Harry stood, and with the women at his back moved on to the next injured auror.

“Harry, what are you…?” Robards followed as Harry gathered a witch in auror robes in his arms. This time, the head auror was close enough to hear what Harry said.

The young man whispered into the auror’s ears, “Thank you for what you did today. I love you.”

The words acted almost like a super-charged healing spell. Color rushed through the young woman’s face as the magic flooded through her. The bloody rent in her side sealed itself under Harry’s touch.

He let go, and the witch flushed brightly. “Thank you,” she said.

Harry and his wives smiled at her. “Thank you,” he said. “For fighting for the light.”

So it continued. There were many aurors who were already gone, but those that were merely injured had the young wizard hug them close, whisper words of love in their ear, and moments later stand completely healed.

Within minutes, the fifteen injured aurors were completely healed. Ten would never stand again. But for the ten lost, twenty-one Death Eaters lay injured or dying. “Are you going to heal them as well?” Robards asked.

“I can’t,” Harry said, a little sadly. “Your people fought for the light. In a real way, they fell for me. It was easy for me to love them for their courage.”

“You weren’t just saying that?”

It was Hermione who answered. “Love is the one power Harry has that Voldemort will never understand. It’s the power that allows our marriage to work. At first he thought he could only heal us, but when we’re together, the six of us can do almost anything.”

Harry smiled at her and took her hand, then Luna’s. “That’s why we’re a package deal,” he said. “And it’s why I’m the luckiest man alive.”

Robards watched as the six of them melted into each other’s eyes. Around them, the aurors, those healed and those already healthy, also saw. That’s when Tonks, who never actually needed polyjuice, started clapping.

Harry spun around, surprised, when the other aurors started clapping as well. The applause increased to cheers. Harry simply stared as his wives moved into his arms. “I believe it’s time to go back to Hogwarts, Harry,” Dumbledore said.

Harry nodded. “I think you’re right, headmaster,” Harry said. He looked back at the clapping aurors and grinned.

Then he, his wives, and the headmaster disappeared with a thunderous pop.

Tonks stepped to Robard’s side. “So, how are you going to write this up?”

“I’m not,” Robards said. He grinned. “You are. Congratulations on your promotion, senior auror. I saw you save Astir’s hide. Good job.”

“Thank you, sir!”

\--

\--

Harry and his wives stepped into the great hall and stopped. Harry blinked in surprise, while his wives very quietly took his hands or put their hands on his shoulders.

Every student of Hogwarts stood staring at him. Every staff member. All of them.

Neville Longbottom stood up and clapped first. The sound reverberated through the otherwise silent hall, but not for long. By Neville’s third clap, Hannah Abbot joined in, and that second clap was like the spark that started the fire. The entire hall erupted in applause. Ron began cheering loudly and blowing whistles, until the sound of cheering was nearly deafening.

“This is incredible,” Harry said, having to shout to be heard.

Beside him, Ginny hugged his arm, while on the other side Hermione scoffed. “You’re the only one of us who would never have suspected it.”

“We, on the other hand,” said Daphne behind him, “expected it.”

“And that’s why you’ll always need us,” Susan finished.

“I thought he needed us for sex and making babies,” Luna said.

“That too,” Susan assured her.

Luna nodded with evident relief, and together they started forward until Harry paused. “Er, where do we sit?”

The question even caught Hermione off guard. “I don’t know,” she admitted.

Professor Dumbledore, watching from the staff table, seemed to understand their confusion. Harry glanced up and saw the headmaster wink. A moment later, a sixth table appeared in addition to the four house tables and the staff table. It rested in the space between the staff and students, and was wide enough to sit six comfortably and several more seats.

“Harry Potter, Lord Hogwarts,” Dumbledore said. His voice cut through the applause. “As the heir of the founders, you’ll be pleased to know you have your own table, though of course you may sit at any of the other tables you wish.”

“Thank you, headmaster,” Harry said.

He and the angels walked through the halls as conversation returned to normal, and took their seats.

A moment later, McGonagall led in the First Years.

“Did we ever look that young?” Ginny asked.

“I didn’t,” Daphne said.

“I did,” Luna said.

“Sweetie, you still only look fourteen.”

“I was, until just a little after our marriage,” Luna pointed out. “Ginny and I are only fifth years, after all.”

“And we’re all married already,” Susan said with a sigh.

“Any regrets?” Harry asked.

“No,” the Hufflepuff prefect said. “Just wondering what could have been. You know?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I understand. I wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t had you girls with me. I’d probably be dead.”

“Or worse, with the Dursleys,” Hermione growled.

The stool and sorting had stood very close to the first years, and as they took their seats to be sorted, the children found it difficult not to look at Harry or the girls. It was a little unnerving, but finally they got through it.

When that was sorted, Dumbledore stood for his annual speech.

“As you can see, it has been an eventful summer,” he started off. He grinned at Harry. “For some of us more than others.”

“You go, Harry!” a student screamed from Gryffindor.

“I want to marry you too, Harry!” This from a Ravenclaw. Harry suspected it was Cho.

Harry felt his cheeks flare but couldn’t help but smile.

“First, I am pleased to announce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Severus Snape.”

Of course, Harry knew this was going to happen and said nothing. The newest addition was an elderly, slimy-looking man who was staring unabashedly at Harry, as if he too wanted to be one of the Heir’s brides.

“Assuming potions classes will be Horace Slughorn, who is returning to the position after a thirteen-year vacation that he liked to pretend was retirement.”

There was polite applause.

“I am sure all of you are aware of the difficulties facing wizarding Britain. This summer saw terrible tragedies in the West Country and in London. Hundreds of innocent men, women and children were murdered, and there have been many other attacks against muggle-borns across the country. However, there have been victories as well. The attack against the current Minister for Magic was thwarted, and this very day, the Ministry struck a huge victory against Voldemort’s forces.”

“Harry did it!” a Hufflepuff yelled.

Harry shook his head and looked at the headmaster, who nodded. Harry stood, his cheeks flaming. “Er, look, you know, it wasn’t just me. My angels were there too. But so were fifty aurors with Gawain Robards, head auror, taking the lead personally. They were the ones fighting the battle. Ten of them died today. They’re the real heroes.”

Harry could sense Ginny about to burst, but it was actually Luna who leaned over and began whispering in her ear. He sat down to polite applause and felt the girls staring at him. “They died fighting,” he said. “They’re dying wasn’t about me.”

“Harry,” Daphne said, “the battle wasn’t about their dying, either. It was about you personally stopping Voldemort and the six of us saving the wounded.”

“It’ll be in the paper,” Luna said. “People will know. Harry’s happy enough.”

Daphne and even Ginny glared at the petite blonde, but Hermione nodded. “Luna’s right. This isn’t the time or place. We won. That’s enough.”

“You’re just saying that because it’s your turn tonight,” Ginny muttered.

Hermione grinned. “Maybe.”

Dumbledore wasn’t quite finished, though. “I have had some questions regarding how Mr. Potter and Lady Gryffindor can be head boy and girl as sixth years. Of course, they cannot. Mr. Potter has been moved to seventh year and will be sitting for his NEWTS relatively soon. Lady Gryffindor challenged her sixth year syllabus and successfully tested out of the entire year, and so will also be attending seventh-year classes, and will also be sitting for her NEWTs this year.”

More cheers eventually faded away as the food appeared.

After the feast, Harry’s family had to break up for their official duties as prefects. He grinned when he heard Daphne call out, “Slytherin midgets to me. Midgets to me!”

With a serene expression, Luna also exclaimed, “Ravenclaw midgets to her!”

Daphne stopped as she found all the first year Ravenclaws following her as well. “Luna, what are you doing?”

“Inter-house cooperation,” Luna said.

Behind them, Ginny and Ron had their first years in hand while Susan and Justin Finch-Fletchley had their own house moving out.

“Luna, where’s Samuels?” Daphne demanded.

“I believe he felt the need to leave the feast early.”

“Why? What’d you do?”

“He just asked me what it was like to be married.”

“And you told him?”

Luna held up a few napkins. “With illustrations,” she said.

Harry arrived just in time. “That’s alright, Daphne. You and Draco go ahead. First year Ravenclaws, follow the pretty blonde.”

One of the first year girls pointed to Draco. “We are.”

Daphne barked laughter as Draco blushed. Nearby, Astoria was snickering.

“Okay, how ‘bout you follow the pretty blonde who is married to me.”

That evidently cleared things up as Harry escorted Luna and her charges to the Ravenclaw tower common room. “Hey,” one of them said, “you’re not a Ravenclaw. How come you can come in here?”

“He’s the heir of all four houses, dear,” Luna explained with a happy, slightly crazed light in her eyes. “He can go anywhere in the castle he wants to. In fact, he can even go into the girl’s dorms if he wanted.”

The Ravenclaw girls, and not just the first years, appeared scandalized. Well, almost all of them. Padma Patil and a couple of other older students actually looked intrigued.

“Not if my life depended on it,” Harry muttered.

“What if my life depended on it?” Luna blinked innocently.

“I’d still get back-up,” Harry said.

Luna nodded. She turned to the first years with wide, happy eyes and a dangerous grin. “And now, let me tell you how we got to watch Salazar Slytherin murder Rowen Ravenclaw on her deathbed!”

She started leading the first years up the stairs to Flitwick’s office while Harry just shook his head in bemusement. That’s when Padma sidled up to him. “So, could you really come ravish us in our dorms, Harry? Is there going to be a Mrs. Black any time soon?”

He blinked at the attractive Ravenclaw, only to see several others waiting for the answer. “Er, bye!”

“Bye Harry,” Padma said as the heir retreated. “Feel free to drop by any time!”

Half an hour later, Harry started home when he found all of the prefects, all twenty four of them, waiting outside the tower. His wives were included. “Why are you guys here?”

“We never finished our prefects meeting,” Hermione said. “Are you ready?”

Harry sighed. “Sure, let’s go.”

They stepped just inside the door and found a large meeting room just inside on the ground level, several levels below their training room. This new room was perfectly appointed as a Head Boy and Girl’s suite, with couches and desks, chalkboards and parchment at the ready.

Hermione walked straight to the chalkboard and drew a perfectly proportioned chart, which she then labeled as day times. “The first thing we need to do is establish a patrol schedule.”

“Er, Hermione,” Denise Stanton said. The 5th-year Slytherin prefect looked around a little wide-eyed. “I know you and Potter are head boy and girl. I also know how half the prefects seem to be married to Potter. Isn’t this a little unfair for the rest of us?”

It was Luna who answered. “I know it’s unfair, Denise, but I believe we all agree that five wives is enough for Harry. He’s not taking any more.”

Denise blushed brightly. “That’s not…”

“We know,” Hermione said gently. She looked to Harry, who had his face covered and was shaking his head. “The scheduling is going to be fair. I’ll give everyone a copy of last year’s schedule so you can see. You’ll all get a map of all the broom closets in the castle. You can reward or detract points, but be prepared to have to defend those decisions if need be.”

“Er, what do we do if we find you and Potter in the closet?” Tamsin Applebee said. She was a Hufflepuff 7th year.

“That depends on if it’s Hermione’s turn or not,” Susan told her housemate. That earned a round of chuckles.

“Alright, enough about our sex-life!” Harry said.

“Yes, please. My eyes still hurt from Luna’s illustrations,” Terrence Samuels muttered.

“We’ll make sure that all of you have access to this room,” Harry said. “However, the stairs are charmed so that only family and staff can get to where my family lives. Feel free to use the room for appointments with classmates who need help. Also, Hermione and I as head boy and head girl will also be meeting with any students who need help. This is especially true for the muggle-borns. Spread the word, okay? I think we can agree, Hermione’s in charge of the patrol schedule. Even for me. And I am in charge of quidditch practice time. So Draco, you’d better be damned nice to me or the Slytherin team is going to have a sharp decrease in pitch time.”

“If that’s all you can think of to keep that cup, do your worst,” Draco drawled back.

The other prefects looked from one to other, confused by the seemingly friendly banter.

“One other thing,” Harry said. He looked at his wives a moment. “About Hermione and me skipping a year—Hermione did it because she’’s just really smart. Me…don’t bother asking, you wouldn’t believe the answer. Suffice it to say, I probably will not be attending any DADA classes. But with the headmaster’s permission, I will be continuing the DA this year. Professor Dumbledore is acting as our official sponsor, and we’ll be having guest lectures from aurors and others. I hope everyone will consider joining. Now, any other questions?”

Pavarti Patil, Ron’s 6th year fellow prefect, raised her hand. “Yeah, can I get some of Luna’s illustrations?”

 


	20. In Which Dark Lords Plan and Light Lords Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can think of nothing to say.

Ollivander activated his wards after a long day of doing nothing.  It was the best kind of day.  He kept the shop open, of course, but he rarely had any business.  In fact, Ollivander made 98 percent of his income in the three months between June and September, when the first years’ were purchasing their wands, and the later years were realizing hand-me-down wands just were not sufficient. 

So, this day after September 1st was blessedly peaceful and quiet.   He finished his shop, poured himself a nice brandy after a light dinner of cheese, crackers and grapes, and sat down to read his beloved copy of the _Iliad_ —the original Wizarding version, in the original Greek of course.

He was not long past the cataloging of the ships when he felt a spike in the wards.  He lay the ancient scroll down on his lap, lifted his brandy, and drained the tumbler.  “So it begins,” he said to himself.

The wards shattered.  Still, the old wand maker did nothing.  He knew his own skills and limitations.  He was old—older even than Albus Dumbledore—and much of his brute power had bled away with age.  Nor was he particularly afraid of death. 

Most importantly, though, he had a mission—a mission given to him just weeks ago by his oldest living friend.

The small apartment Ollivander kept above his shop darkened as a monster stepped into it.  “Tom Riddle,” Ollivander said.  “Yew, 13 ½ inches with a phoenix feather core.  I was wondering when you would come.”

The Dark Lord stood before the ancient wandmaker with a grimace-like smile on his serpentine face.  Behind him came his Death Eaters, five of them.  “Antonin Dolohov, oak, 11 inches, manticore fang.”

“Enough old man,” Voldemort hissed.  “How do I overcome the priori incatatum?”

“You don’t,” Ollivander said.  “They are brother wands with cores from the same magical animal.  You cannot overcome it.  You can only use a different wand, though I doubt even that will help.”

“ _Crucio_!”

One hundred and forty-eight years of living had not equipped Ollivander to handle the pain that seared through his body at that moment.  His calm composure cracked as he slid, convulsing from his chair. 

The Unforgivable only lasted a few moments, and then he was gasping for air.  “No need for that,” he said in a cracking imitation of his own voice.  “We’re all purebloods here, aren’t we, Tom?”

“I am Lord Voldemort!  _Crucio_.  You shall show me respect.  Bow to me, you worm!”

Ollivander had no choice but to comply as the pain burned through his body.  Finally, released a second time, Ollivander gasped for breath.   “There is one wand,” he whispered.  It was all he could muster.

“What wand is that, Worm?”

“The Elder Wand.”

“It is a myth.”

“No, it is not.  The Elder Wand is real.  I have seen it.  I have handled it.  I know where it is.”

“The legends say the wielder cannot be beaten.”

“Yet the wand will only obey the master that takes it by force,” Ollivander says.  “Wielders of the wand can be beaten, Lord Voldemort, but there is no more powerful wand in this world than the Elder Wand.”

“Tell me where it is, Old Man, and you may live to sell wands again.”

“Most gracious Lord,” Ollivander said, bowing his head to the floor.  “The wand resides in the hands of Albus Dumbledore.  The Elder Wand has been his since he took it from Grindelwald.”

Voldemort stared down at the ancient wandmaker.

“My Lord?” Dolohov asked, in essence asking whether Ollivander would live or not.

“We may have use for him in the future,” Voldemort decided.  “ _Obliviate!”_

\--

\--

Hundreds of miles away, Albus Dumbledore sat behind his desk, looking at the fragile orb that puffed black smoke.  Like his friend in Diagon Alley, he also had a shot of brandy in his hand, while across from him Severus watched the smoke with narrow eyes.  “The wand maker?”

“Indeed,” Dumbledore said.  “It was just as you predicted.”

“The Dark Lord raged after his defeat by Potter, blaming everything on his cursed wand,” Snape said.  “He was randomly _Cruciatin_ g anyone who came too close.”

“Including you, old friend?”

“One does not gain the Dark Mark by being innocent.  Any pain I receive is pain I no doubt deserve.”

“So?”

“So your plan is devious and unnecessarily complicated, I think,” Snape said.

“It is the only way,” Dumbledore said.  “The wand will not harm its master.  And I have not been its master since before the start of term.”

“But to risk Malfoy in such a manner? To risk Potter?”

“I am open to other suggestions, Severus.  You’ve told the Dark Lord that Mr. Malfoy is but playing his part, pretending to ingratiate himself to Potter in order to get closer to me.  He is already playing a part in all this.  Yes, he is at risk, but I must believe he is safer in this role than he would otherwise be.”

“Perhaps,” Snape said.  “Where does that leave you?”

“My old willow wand, of course,” Dumbledore said.  “Twelve inches, unicorn tail hair.  Excellent for transfiguration.”

Snape snorted into his tumbler as he breathed down the brandy.  “And when do you tell Potter?”

“I don’t,” Dumbledore said.  “I leave clues.”

“Clues?  A bit cryptic, don’t you think, Albus?”

“Indulge me, I’m an old man,” Dumbledore said.  “I had a whole regimen of cryptic penseive memories ready for Harry this year, teaching him everything I knew about Riddle, and instead because of his wives I had to distill it down to a half-hour discussion.  At least I get a small taste of what I wanted to do this year.”

“And who are you leaving the clues to?  Potter?”

“No, his wives, of course.  _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ to Hermione should be sufficient.  Between her and his other four wives, they should have the details worked out for themselves.”

“I hope you’re right, Headmaster,” Snape said as he finished his drink.  “Frankly I would not want those five women mad at me for getting their man killed.”

“Truly, I have had nightmares of just that very thing.”

Neither man was joking. 

\--

\--

Late that night, after all the first years were in bed and the other prefects were on patrol (Harry and Hermione actually took the first patrol), Hermione slid off Harry with a contented sigh and snuggled up in the crook of his arm.  He loved the feel of her body, especially the way her pubic hair and the lips of her labia rubbed against his thigh when she enticingly draped her right leg over his. 

She started giggling.

“What?”  he finally asked.

“I just shagged Harry Bleedin’ Potter,” she said.  The giggle turned into a guffaw that made her breasts bounce playfully against his ribs.

“Keep moving like that, and you will again.”

She laughed and leaned up to kiss him, slipping her tongue between his lips before rearing back with a wistful smile.  “Just thinking about all that’s happened since the end of term last year.  I mean, gods, I’m not even seventeen yet, and somehow I’m married.  If you had asked me during fourth year if I would be married by now, I would have laughed.  Being married to you…”

“You fancied Ron, even then?”

She buried her face in his chest.  “No, and yes.”

“What?”

“During the first task our fourth year, I was so scared, Harry.  When I hugged you…if that cow Skeeter hadn’t taken that picture, I think I would have kissed you.  And not just a good luck kiss—I was working my way up to a right good snog.  Maybe even more.  I’ve rubbed myself at night thinking of you almost since I woke up from the basilisk in Second Year.  But the picture happened, and you were pining after Cho, and it didn’t even dawn on you or Ron to ask me to the Ball.  That’s when I realized that I would never have you.  That you didn’t think about me the same way I did you.  And when Ron threw that tantrum during the Ball, I realized he at least was jealous, which meant he did like me.  So…I guess I settled for the second best option available.”

She leaned up on her elbow and looked at him with an endearing, forlorn expression.  “Maeve, I know that sounds harsh.  I didn’t mean it that way.  I did love Ron.  Still do, in a way.  But all things being equal, if I had complete freedom to choose, I would rather be right here.”

“That’s good to know.”

She giggled again. “Of course, it’s not like you had to choose.  You got every pretty girl who ever thought about you.”

“I didn’t ask…”

She lifted a finger and shushed him.  “I know, Harry.  I don’t mean to sound cruel.  I love them all.  I can’t lie and say sometimes I wish I didn’t have to share you, but with this incredible power you have, I’ve never felt like there isn’t enough of you.”

As she spoke, her leg almost of its own volition moved up and down his own, rubbing the warm, moist lips of her her sex against his thigh again.  Both looked down as his “power” made itself known once more.

“See what I mean?” she said. 

“It’s not just my power,” Harry said softy.  He reached over and gently began tracing the swell her exposed right breast.  “It’s a power you bring out in me.  I love you so much, Hermione.  I’ve known you longer than anyone of the others.  You were always the one I counted on.  The one I knew I could depend on.  You stood by me when all others, even my best mate, left.  I just don’t have the words to tell you how much I loved you for that.”

She pushed herself back onto him, and with a skill born of much recent practice, reached down and positioned him until he slid easily back inside of her body.  She smiled as she leaned over and brushed her lips against his.  Her breasts rubbed against his chest enticingly.  “I love you, Harry Potter.  With my mind, my soul, my body and my magic.”  She reared back and rocked.  “I’m shagging Harry Bleedin’ Potter!”

“And I’m shagging Hermione Bleedin’ Granger!” Harry said.

Ten minutes later, they agreed a good long soak was just what the doctor ordered.

Harry’s wives were all unique and vastly different people, but long mutual baths were the one thing all seemed to agree to.  Some in fact always bathed—Daphne and Luna, of all people, refused to shower.  Daphne because pureblood ladies bathed in a proper fashion, and Luna because she insisted Nargles sometimes came through the showerheads. 

“No, it’s because she saw Psycho when she was seven,” Hermione corrected him.  “Her mother was muggle-born and occasionally took her to movies.  I don’t know why any mother would take a child to see a movie like that, but that’s what happened.”

“How do you know?”

“Ginny told me.”

Harry nodded as he ran the soapy sponge down her chest.  “So what was that book you were reading tonight?”

“The Tales of Beedle the Bard,” Hermione said.  “Wizarding folklore. The other girls already knew it by heart—evidently it’s the wizarding equivalent of the Brothers Grimm.”

“Why read it?”

“Because it’s the only place that mentions the Peverell Brothers and the Deathly Hallows.”

“The who and what?”

“Three brothers, all descended from Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin.  Your ancestors.”  She retold Harry the tale of the Deathly Hallows as she leaned against him in the tub of hot water.  His hands rested on her breasts as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and as she spoke, she realized it was just that—perfectly natural.  She felt absolutely safe and comfortable in his arms.

“And Dumbledore basically said my invisibility cloak was one of the hallows, right?”

“And Gaunt’s ring had the Resurrection Stone in it.  The only one of the hallows missing is the Elder Wand.”

“Elder Wand?”

“Supposedly unbeatable.  My copy of the book came from the Headmaster, though, and he made a notation that the wand wasn’t really unbeatable since its changed masters before.  But he said the wand could never truly harm its own master.”

“That’s interesting,” Harry said.  He was getting drowsy, soaking in the charmed water with a woman he loved resting against him.  He leaned forward enough to kiss her neck.  “Want to go get some sleep?  First day of class tomorrow, after all.”

She reached up a hand to cup his neck, turned her head and kissed him tenderly.  “Good idea,” she whispered.

 

 


	21. In Which Harry Has the Best Study Sessions Ever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If my wife helped me study like that, I'd have a dozen Ph.D.s.

“Potter, what are you doing?”

Harry looked up from his cauldron at the new Potions Professor, Horace Slughorn.  “I’m doing the assignment, Professor.”

“The asphodel is not called for.”

Harry shook his head.  “I’m using it instead of the monkshead,” he said.  “The original formula was changed because asphodel was hard to come by, but it’s still better than monkshead to get the right potency.”

Slughorn stared at Harry with bulging eyes.  “Are you claiming to know how to brew drought of living death better than I do, Potter?”

“I don’t,” Harry said slowly, “but Slytherin did.  This was one of his original potions.  I remember the night he first made it to help smuggle the daughter of a nearby warlord out of Moorish camp.”

Slughorn opened his mouth, and then closed it again.  “We shall see, then,” he said.  “Please proceed.  This promises to be a most interesting class.

An hour later, as class came to an end, Harry produced a vial of his final product.  Slughorn waited until the rest of the class was gone, including Harry, before he tested the potion.  The professor actually started laughing when his test confirmed Harry’s formula was actually more affective than the accepted recipe.

“Remarkable,” the large professor finally said.  “Absolutely remarkable.  Potter, my boy, you are going to do well this year.  I can feel it in my very bones!”

\--

\--

“Mr. Potter, that is…quite extraordinary,” Professor Flitwick said.

The charms professor studied Harry’s stag Patronus.  “I understand you taught many of your classmates how to do this last year.  But this…”  The professor placed a hand on the haunch of the silver patronus.  “A physical patronus.  I can only imagine the happy thought that went into this.”

“Let’s say I had a happy summer,” Harry said.  Hermione and Daphne, who shared the joint Slytherin/Gryffindor class, blushed while the rest of the class laughed in appreciation of the joke.

“I would say so,” Flitwick said.

\--

\--

At the first staff meeting of the term, Snape asked the question all the professors were pondering.  “Why is Potter even bothering to attend classes?”

Dumbledore, who was savoring a lemon drop and drifting off to sleep, perked up and blinked his rheumy eyes.  “I’m sorry, Severus.  What was that?”

“I asked why Potter is even bothering to attend class.”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“He doesn’t appear to need to,” Flitwick said.  “I pulled him aside after class this week and we had a very long discussion on charms.  The boy is well beyond NEWT level already.  And his stories behind where he learned some of his material are fascinating.”

“He corrected the formula for the draught of living death,” Slughorn said with obvious delight.  “He said he was using the memories of when Slytherin himself first perfected it.”

“He is an animagus, now,” Professor McGonagall said.  “I introduced the theory on Tuesday.  As of this morning, Friday, he could complete the transformation.”

“What is his form?” Dumbledore asked.

“He appears to be a Siberian tiger, albeit an oddly colored one.  His fur is black like a panther, but his size and body type are clearly that of a Siberian tiger.  His back comes almost to my chest.”

“Fascinating,” Dumbledore said.  “He mastered the transformation in days.  And that is one thing he could not have learned from the founders since the animagus transformation was not perfected until the fifteenth century.”

“He audited my course,” Professor Vectra said.  “Afterward we spoke about the theories behind arithmancy.  He has never taken a class, and yet possesses an astounding understanding of what I am teaching.”

“While Mr. Potter’s OWL results were only slightly above average, save for certain subjects,” Professor McGonagall said, “given his recent experiences, perhaps it would be advisable, and even preferable, to contact the NEWTS board and arrange for an early-term test.  If nothing else, this confirms your suspicions that he was too advanced for the sixth year curriculum.”

“In what subjects would you have him tested?” Dumbledore asked.  “He wasn’t planning on his NEWTs until next semester.”

“All of them,” Flitwick suggested.

“Well, perhaps not in Divination,” Professor Trelawney said quickly.  “Poor, doomed child just doesn’t have the gift.”

“Yes, well, be that as it may,” McGonagall said, “I honestly believe he would do quite well.  And having his NEWTS could possibly benefit him in other ways.”

“Especially with the DA,” Dumbledore said sagely.   “In fact, it would be quite beneficial if the Minister, in providing aurors to the club for training, could point to the fact that it is being led by a NEWT-level student.  Are we agreed, then?”

“What will he do in the meantime?” Professor Sprout asked. 

“The man has five wives,” Snape drawled.  “I’m sure he’ll think of something.”

\--

\--

Harry was sitting between Ginny and Luna in the tower common room, looking over their potions work, when they heard a knock.  “Come in,” Harry said without looking up.  He knew from the stone guardians of his door who it was.

The door opened and Professor Dumbledore stepped in.  “Good afternoon, Harry.  Luna, Ginny, I hope you are all doing well?”

The two girls beamed.  “Very well,” Luna said.

“We’re gearing up for Hermione’s birthday,” Ginny said.

“Which reminds me,” Harry said, “would you object if we left the school to go shopping?  I don’t mind taking Tonks or anyone else you wish to send with us.”

“Perhaps that can be arranged, but there is a price, dear boy.”

Harry looked up from the scrolls he was reviewing.  “What’s that, sir?”

“I know we discussed taking your NEWTS early this year, but it appears after just a week of class the other professors have openly questioned why you need attend class at all.  You have impressed all of them with your newfound expertise on their subjects.  I understand you even mastered the animagus transformation in four days.”

“He’s a tiger,” Luna said.  “A beautiful black tiger.  I rode him yesterday.”

Harry’s cheeks bloomed.  Beside him, Ginny snickered.  “Merlin, there are so many ways to read into that.”

Dumbledore cleared his throat.  “Yes, well…yes.  Ummm.    In any event, Madame Marchbanks and the board will be arriving Monday.  If you are willing, you’ll spend that day and the next taking your NEWTS.”

“What subjects?” Harry asked.

“Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Astronomy, Care of Magical Creatures, Charms,  Defense Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, Herbology, Potions and Transfiguration.  I am assuming you would not care to take Muggle Studies or Divination.”

“True,” Harry said.  “Probably will botch History of Magic as well.  I know a lot about what happened between 950 and 1150 in England, but not much else.  Professor Binns sort of puts us all to sleep.”

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine,” Dumbledore said. 

“But Professor,” Luna said, “once he takes his NEWTS, will he still be considered a student?”

“Technically, no,” Dumbledore said.  “However, I’ve resolved this issue by making an assistant professor position available.  Harry will take over the DA not just as its leader, but as its formal staff sponsor and lead teacher.  We will structure it to be a compliment to DADA.  I also understand Lady Gryffindor mentioned the possibility of a dueling club.  I think rather this could be added as an elective class, with Professor Potter assuming its lead.”

“Professor Potter?” Ginny said.

“At sixteen?” Luna said, giggling. 

“If nothing else,” Harry said, “it’s an excuse for a party.”

“You know Hermione is going to draw up a study guide and everything,” Ginny said. “She’ll probably insist that she tutor you extensively.”

Luna sighed.  “Wonder if she would like me be in the tutoring too?  I do so love tutoring.”

“Very well, Harry, good day,” Dumbledore said quickly before he turned and fled the room.

“We’re going to give that man a heart-attack,” Harry said.

“Then we’ll just have to kiss him and make him all better,” Luna said brightly.

“Luna, that’s kind of disgusting.”

The girl shrugged.  “Yes.  Now, potions, Professor Potter.  I’m afraid I shall have to be very naughty during revision.  I expect to be punished accordingly.”

Harry shook his head while Ginny snickered.

\--

\--

Ginny was absolutely right about Hermione insisting he study.  With Susan and Daphne by her side, she drew up a long, intricate study chart that was more complex than half the arithmancy on the NEWT test. 

Harry finally interrupted her long discussion with a deep kiss.  “Hermione, if I don’t know it now, I’m not going to know it in two days no matter how I cram.”

“But…but…but…”

“They’re giving me the tests because they think I already know it,” Harry pointed out.

“Do you?” Daphne asked.

“I think so.”

Susan grinned.  “Then I have an idea.  Instead of revision sessions, let’s have quizzes.  Each one of us will use the NEWT study guides in an area and test him.  Every answer he gets right, we’ll…I don’t know, give him an award.”

Harry’s eyes bulged.  “Award?”

“An incentive,” Daphne said, getting into it.  “Perhaps an article of clothing?”

“We’d have to wear quite a lot of clothing,” Hermione said.  “There’s a lot of questions.”

“Then maybe five correct answers for an article,” Susan suggested.

Luna bounced on the couch.  “Ohh, can I do DADA?”

Harry and the others stared at her.  “Why?” Hermione asked.

“Because he knows it best.  I’m sure he could have all my articles off very quickly.”

And so, with their plans made, the girls spent the entire weekend quizzing Harry mercilessly.  Hermione started with arithmancy.  They were in the Gryffindor suite and she did indeed wear a complete school uniform with tie, stockings and shoes.  She started asking questions and Harry answered, drawing on memories that were not his.  Some information had changed over the centuries, but the basic theory had not changed since Rowena Ravenclaw first developed them.

She shed her robe first, followed by her tie, her shoes, then her stockings.  Next came her shirt, and her skirt, her bra and then her knickers.  She continued reading him questions and he continued to answer as he lifted her onto the bed and started kissing her ankle, slowly working his way north with each successful answer until he was gently teasing her clitoris with his lips.. 

By the time they began the theory behind apparition, she was shouting the questions at the top of her voice while gripping his hair with the hand not holding the study guide.  It was the best study session ever.

After lunch, Daphne started quizzing him on History of Magic.  Fortunately, she wore jeans and a button-down shirt and slippers.  It was a good thing, too, because once they moved past the twelve century, Harry was little better than average.  Still, it was enough to get her free of her articles.

As he kissed his way up her leg, though, she demonstrated that she was simply not as dedicated to study as her wife.  “To hell with this,” she muttered as she threw the book away, rolled over with Harry caught firmly between her long legs, and then proceeded to shag the daylights out of him.

It was the best study session ever. 

Luna actually managed to do a strip-tease during their study session on DADA.  She was right that this was Harry’s strongest subject, and he aced every question.  Luna began a sinuous dance, grinning as she dropped first gloves, then stockings, then her school robes, her Ravenclaw tie, her shirt, her skirt, and then the breathtaking negligee she wore under it. 

As Luna rode his “tiger” she kept the study guide firmly hand, and continued to read questions in a perfectly normal tone of voice as she bounced with an abandon that left Harry dizzy from trying to follow her pert nipples.

It was also the best study session ever.

In fact, all his study sessions were absolutely perfect.  They rotated through the rest of Saturday and into Sunday.  Ginny and Susan enjoyed their study sessions as thoroughly as Harry did.  By the time Monday morning arrived, Harry not only felt well rested and thoroughly vetted for all his subjects, but he also felt a confidence he would never have believed possible. 

That morning Harry ate in the great hall not at the Hogwarts table, as his family’s table had been named, but with his friends in Gryffindor.  In fact, the whole family split up to eat with their own houses.  Even Luna. 

Harry, Hermione and Ginny all kept an eye out for the flighty Ravenclaw, fearing she might be subjected to attacks caused by jealously.  However, they saw that her fellow Ravenclaws—at least the girls—were clustered around her listening with bated breath as she spoke with unusual enthusiasm.  When Harry saw her lean down and start drawing on the napkins, he understood.

When every girl around Luna turned and stared at Harry hungrily, he blushed the color of a tomato and hunched behind Neville.

Neville turned, caught the stares, then grinned.  “Getting something of a reputation there, Romeo,” he said. 

“He’s not the only one, Neville,” Ginny said.  “I heard Susan and Hannah talking about you.”

Neville’s ears turned bright red.  “Yes, well…”

“Good on ya, mate,” Harry said. 

“So, what are you doing today?” Neville asked.  “We have potions this morning, don’t we?”

“Er…” Harry started.

It was Hermione who answered.  “Harry’s taking his NEWT exams today.”

Nearby, Ron gagged on a sausage. When he managed to swallow, he said, “Whassat?”

“Honestly, Ron,” Hermione said.  “He’s taking his NEWTS.”

“He’s only sixteen!” Ron protested.

“I had a productive summer,” Harry said.

Across from Ron, Seamus snorted.  “Bet ya’ did, Potter.”

“Jealous?” Hermione asked archly.

Seamus shrugged.  “Yeah.”  He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Hermione blinked.  “Well, yes, of course.”

Harry grinned, and then saw the time on the great hall’s old clock.  “Got to run.  Got a date with Marchbanks.”

“Now that I could live without knowing,” Seamus announced.

\--

\--

Madam Griselda Marchbanks was old.  Old enough to have administered these very tests to Albus Dumbledore when the hundred and fifteen year old wizard was only a teenager.  She wore every year on her face, which was so deeply lined it looked as if were draped in spiderwebs.  Small, glittering eyes gazed out from the center of the prune-like face, missing nothing.

“So, Harry Potter, Lord Hogwarts,” she said in a dry, brittle voice, “for some reason Albus thinks you are ready two years in advance to take your NEWTS.  Your OWL scores don’t seem to support his assertions.”

“Yes, Madam,” Harry said. She reminded him a great deal of Neville’s grandmother.

“Very well. Let’s get started.   The theory first.  We shall start with Arithmancy.”

Harry had never written so much in his life.  There was a reason the tests were officially labeled Nastily Exhausting, for they were at that.  The written exam took a full two hours, and was followed by an intense hour-long practical. 

With nothing more than a bathroom break, Harry started on his next exam, Ancient Runes.  Again, the written test was two full hours, followed by an hour long practical.

There were to be a total of ten tests administered over two days, which meant Harry literally spent fifteen hours on Monday taking tests.  He occasionally had to stand and stretch, or just stop writing when his fingers cramped. The entire time, Marchbanks sat on her stool staring at him with the patience of a witch so old hours seemed like minutes.

That night, Harry was so physically and mentally exhausted he went straight to his personal room and sank into a hot bath.  He didn’t even hear as his wives snuck in with food and butterbeer.  All he knew was that a delicious dinner was waiting for him when he climbed out of the bad.

It was Luna’s turn that night.  As tired as he was, he did not feel like sleeping alone, and so walked into the Ravenclaw suite.  “Luna?” he called as he did.

Luna looked up from the scrolls she was studying on her desk with a smile.  “Hello, Harry.  Why don’t you climb into bed?  I’ll be there in a minute.”

Harry was asleep before he even finished undressing.  Luna finished her homework, and then lovingly finished undressing him, before she climbed under the sheets, curled up nude beside him, and kissed his cheek.

“I love you, Harry Potter,” she whispered.  “Thank you for giving me a family.”

“Love you too, Luna,” he muttered, still mostly sleep.  “You’re my family.”

She smiled brilliantly, laid down then and pulled the cover up.  Snug beside the man of her dreams, Luna floated into a gentle slumber.

\--

\--

Marchbanks stared at Harry intently as he came in the next day.  “You look well rested,” she said.

Harry grinned.  “I am, thank you.”

“How?  Fifteen hours of testing should have left you limping.”

He shrugged.  “I have five nurses to keep he well,” he said.

“That should leave you limping as well,” she corrected him.  “None the less, let’s continue.”

He spent another fifteen hours writing until his fingers cramped, and then writing some more.  He performed the practicals as best he could, and answered every question.  He did not feel very good about History of Magic or Astronomy, but the rest of the tests he felt reasonably comfortable about.  As he stumbled out of the classroom after fifteen hours of the worst exams he had ever been through, the only thing he could think was, “It’s over!”

Of course, the halls were essentially deserted, since his fifteen hours began at nine that morning and did not end until well after midnight.  Fortunately, as Head Boy Harry didn’t have to worry about being caught out after curfew.  So he was not concerned as he made his way through the castle to his tower.

Naturally, someone would choose to attack him at that exact moment. 

Hogwarts herself thrummed a warning through his head, and instinctively he rolled away just as a dark purple spell seared the air over his head.  He came to his feet, wand at the ready, but could see nothing.

He felt the castle warn him again and ducked once more away from another spell, one ringing with dark magic.  He popped up and cast an area-wide stunner in the general vicinity he thought the spell came from.

He heard a muttered incantation and saw the golden dome of a protego charm.  Without hesitation, he cast another stunner, this one rippling with all his strength.  The stunner blasted through the shield and struck the invisible attacker.  Harry saw a body fly against the far wall while an invisibility cloak fell to the floor. 

Harry stopped and looked down at the fallen attacker in shock.  “Susan?” he whispered. 

There, laying on the floor before him, was his wife.  A wife, he realized, whose turn it was for him to sleep with that very night. 

 

 

 


	22. In Which Hermione Receives a Special Birthday Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oops

Harry stared down at the stunned form of his third wife and fell to his knees. He barely registered the sound of fast-approaching footsteps behind him.

“Gods, did you kill her?”

It was the last voice he had ever expected to hear.  Harry turned with an angry growl and pointed his wand at Draco Malfoy.

The Slytherin prefect was more pale even than usual, his eyes wide and his nostrils flared from his run.  He raised both hands in surrender.  “Did you hurt her?”

“She’s stunned.  What is going on here?”

“Not here!” Draco hissed.  “Get her and follow me.  Hurry, Potter!”

Harry didn’t trust the other boy, but then again he had made a vow to renounce the Dark Lord.  Wouldn’t he be endangering himself by betraying them?  He wandlessly levitated Susan and the three of them ducked into an unused classroom.

The Slytherin started casting silencing spells all over the room before he turned to Harry.  “It’s my fault,” he finally admitted.  “Zabini hasn’t formally taken the mark, but he’s working for the Dark Lord and passed a message to me.  The Dark Lord is doubting that my supposed conversion is just for show.  I was given a specific assignment and I had no choice.”

Harry didn’t bother with an _innervate_.  Instead, he levitated Susan into his arms and kissed her.  The healing warmth rushed from his lips into hers, and her eyes popped open.  “Harry, what’s happening?  Where are we?  How’d you do on your tests?”

The Lord of Hogwarts could not help the smile as he looked down into the face of his wife.  “Everything’s fine.  Draco’s about to tell me why you attacked me tonight.”

“I what?”  Susan blinked.

“I placed the _imperio_ curse on you,” Draco explained.  “I was specifically ordered to make one of your wives kill you, Potter.  The thought was even if she failed, you’d hurt or kill her defending yourself.  The Dark Lord doesn’t seem to realize that you stun first unless you know who it is you’re fighting.”

Susan straightened, her eyes brilliant with her rage.  “You used an unforgivable on me?”

“If I didn’t, then I’d be dead and Blaise would have used it on you or Ginny anyway,” Draco said.  “And he would have probably done a lot more to you than just make you try and attack Potter.”  The Slytherin sat down, and both Harry and Susan saw that his hands were shaking.  “I really didn’t think he would hurt you, Bones.  And he didn’t.  But I just didn’t know what else to do.”

Harry could sense that Susan was about to tell him exactly what else he could do when an idea struck with such overwhelming clarity he had to act.  He took the surprised girl in his arms and kissed her.  “I’m so sorry about your injuries,” he said with all seriousness.

“What injuries?”

“The injuries you sustained when you attacked me.  You’ll probably end up in the hospital wing for a week or two.  Maybe more.  I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about…”

He leaned forward until his lips brushed her ears.  “The Dark Lord must believe Draco is on his side.  So the attack tonight must look like it was successful.”

Her eyes widened with understanding. She turned to the pale Malfoy.  “As if you didn’t already owe us?”

“In for a knut, in for a galleon,” Malfoy said in a shaky voice.

“Will you stay with me in the hospital wing?” Susan asked Harry.

“You bet.”

“Okay.  But you’re going to have to carry me.  I don’t like being levitated.”

Harry grinned and swept his third wife off her feet.  “Nagging already, and we haven’t even been married six months!”

Harry turned to Draco.  “Go back to Slytherin dorms and let the Dark Lord’s little helpers know the attack was successful.   You’re going to have to go back to being a big prat.”

“Instead of the small one?” Draco said.

“Exactly.”

Harry swept out of the room and fixed his face with an expression of alarm and horror.  Taking her cue from him, Susan laid her head against his chest, closed her eyes, and pretended to be unconscious.

The castle itself warned him that there were prying eyes by the hospital wing when he emerged from the stairs.  It was Zabini, doing his master’s work in confirming the attack.  Harry made sure not to look at that dark corner as he rushed in, screaming for Madam Pomphrey.  The mediwitch shambled in clutching her sleeping robes, her hair mussed.

“What happened?” she asked.

In a voice loud enough for Zabini to hear, Harry said, “She attacked me.  I don’t know why, but she attacked me!  And I hurt her, bad.  You’ve got to help me!”

They quickly settled Susan on a bed and the mediwitch removed her wand.  “Madam Pomphrey,” Harry whispered urgently, “lives are resting on your performance.  You’re going to have to say that Susan is badly injured, and you’re going to have to play the part.”

“Harry, I don’t….”

“It’s a play to try and save a life from Voldemort.  Please play along.  The headmaster will explain more later.”

Pomphrey looked down at Susan, who winked at her.  “All right,” she whispered.

She then jumped to her feet and ran from the bed with a terrified expression on her normally calm face.  She turned moments later with a whole cart of potions.  She actually made Susan drink one.  Harry recognized it as a dreamless sleep potion.  The rest were placebos, little more than foul tasting colored water.

Harry knew for a fact that Pomphrey treated hysterical ailments with placebo potions all the time.

“She’ll sleep for now.”

A moment later Dumbledore came barreling into the hospital wing.  “Harry, what happened?”

Harry, with a nod to Pomphrey, stood up until he was within whispering distance.  “Blaise Zabini is the Dark Lord’s servant.  He’s outside right now, watching and listening.  He forced Draco to put Susan under the _imperio_ curse and make her attack me.  Draco said it was a test and he had no choice.  I believe him.”

Dumbledore looked pensively at the flagstones.  “And now, my young friend, you understand some of the burden I have shouldered these many long years.  Just as I with Severus, you have placed young Mr. Malfoy in a position of great jeopardy.”

“Did I have a choice?”

“Of course not,” Dumbledore said.  “But it does not lesson the burden, does it?”

“No, I suppose not.”

While Dumbledore was there to stand watch, Harry apparated into the family tower and woke the girls long enough to tell them in detail what happened.  Daphne looked like she was ready to march to the Slytherin dorms to start hexing, but Hermione understood exactly what was happening.  “We have our own spy on Voldemort now,” she said.

Harry nodded.  “Exactly.”

Harry spent that night with Susan in the hospital wing.  Early the next morning, he was happy to see his four other wives come and spend time with her.  By that time the dreamless potion had worn off, but Pomphrey gave her other potions that made her look pale and weak, without actually doing anything.

“When this is over,” Hermione promised her sister wife, “we are going to nominate you for a BAFTA.”

The purebloods stared at her.  Harry chuckled.  “For best actress in a drama,” he said.

“Must be a muggle thing,” Daphne muttered.  She leaned over and kissed Susan’s forehead.  “I’m going to go do my part.”

Harry looked up in surprise.  “Your part?”

“My sister was attacked.  No one who knows me would think I’d let that stand.  So I’m going to go terrify the Slytherins for a little.  Head of house powers, remember?”

Harry grinned.  “I love you.”

“Who wouldn’t?” Daphne said with a flick of her long, raven-black tresses.

Luna stood.  “Can I go too?  I’d love to watch the snakes slither.”

Daphne shrugged.  “Sure, why not.”

\--

\--

Slytherin house was woken by a thunderous BOOM that shook the very walls.  Students of all seven years jumped or rolled out of their beds and rushed out into the common rooms to see what was happening.

They found a sight of sublime, beauteous terror in the form of one Daphne Greengrass, Lady Slytherin.  She stood before the main common room exit flushed with so much magical power her dark tresses seemed to be fluttering in the wind. 

Snape emerged moments later.  “What is the meaning of…urgghhhh”

The Slytherins watched in horror as Daphne and Luna Lovegood behind her pointed their wands at the Potions Master and with a silently cast spell launched him against the wall, which promptly grew a pair of stone arms that latched around his chest.

“What is the meaning of this?” Snape roared.

“Someone used an unforgivable on our sister wife last night,” Daphne growled.  Her very voice carried the sound of her rage and magic through every nook and cranny of the Slytherin dorms.  Even Tracey Davis looked terrified.  “They used Susan to try and attack Harry.”

Luna stepped to Daphne’s side.  Other than the glint of her silvery-blue eyes, she looked completely normal.  “Naturally, anyone attacking the Heir of the Four Founders in his castle will fail.  But what matters is that he was forced to hurt her.  Whoever did this forced our husband to hurt one of his own wives.”

Both witches noted how Blaise Zabini had paled slightly.  Bulstrode also looked faintly green.  Draco stood stock still, his face a mask.

“I am Lady Slytherin,” Daphne said.  “I can get into any room in the dungeons.  By the power of my bonding, I carry the magic of Salazar Slytherin himself.  And I swear to everyone in this room that if I find a Slytherin was behind this attack, I shall make you suffer pain like you could never believe.”

“And I will drive you to insanity,” Luna said.  She spoke softly, and yet her normally airy voice reached throughout the room with all the chill of deep winter.

Finally, speaking together like a Greek chorus, the two intoned, “And then our husband shall destroy you so utterly even your soul shall perish.”

With a casual flick of her wand, Daphne released Snape, and the two witches left the Slytherin dungeons.  They managed to keep up the angry expressions until they reached the third floor, before Luna started giggling. 

Daphne’s own façade cracked a little.  “Drive them to insanity?”

“Do you really have Slytherin’s magic?”

Daphne grinned.  “Don’t know, but it sounded scary, didn’t it?”

“Made me want to pee my skirts it did,” Luna said.  She eyed Daphne.  “You are incredibly sexy when you are angry, did you know that?”

“Sweetie,” Daphne said as she took her younger sister wife in her arm, “I’m always incredibly sexy.”

\--

\--

Harry and his angels made Susan stay in the hospital for a week pretending to be injured.  Finally, though, they decided that she should come home.  Pomphrey gave her another week’s worth of the pallor potion, as she called it, so Susan continued to look as if she were recovering.  But otherwise she was just fine.

Draco sent a message via Snape that the Dark Lord had accepted his performance, and that he was still tasked with killing the headmaster.  Harry, though, had other concerns on his mind.

Namely, Hermione’s upcoming birthday.  With Dumbledore’s permission, Auror Tonk’s escort, and a glamour charm, Harry went to Diagon Alley.  There was one gift he had always wanted to give Hermione, but the timing never seemed right.  But this time, he was determined.

When the manager at Flourish and Botts saw his order, the old man’s eyes almost bulged out.  Then he tallied the profits and flushed red with pleasure.

Hermione’s birthday fell on September 19th.  They threw a party for her with most of the Gryffindors and a fair share of Hufflepuffs and even Ravenclaws attending.  Harry waited until all the presents were opened until he showed her his gift.

At first, Hermione stared at the trunk without comprehension.  “It’s lovely, Harry, thank you,” she said with genuine feeling.  She had no idea what it was, but she knew it was from the man she loved.

Harry knew it, too, and had a hard time not bursting with love and affection for her.  “Open it up, Hermione,” he said softly.

She lifted the feather-light trunk and placed it on her lap before opening it.  “Books!” she said with delight.  She then studied the titles and ran a finger along the silver trim.  Her eyes widened when the movement of her fingers caused the titles to flit past her eyes to another set.  “Harry,” she said, “how many books are in here?”

“Er, all of them.”

The whole room fell quite.  “What?” Hermione asked.

“I had Flourish and Botts pull the publisher’s list of every wizarding book in print, either in English or translated to English.  They were really great—they had people scouring book stores across the island.  I don’t know how many—probably several thousand.  It’s not like with Muggle booksellers. But there’s still a lot.”

“And they’re all in this little trunk?”

Harry grinned.  “Magic’s pretty neat, isn’t it?”

Nearby, Ginny leaned over to Susan.  “He is going to get so much action tonight.”

Susan snickered.  They knew Hermione well enough to know that nothing, absolutely nothing, turned her own more than lots and lots of books. 

Eventually, all the guests returned to their common rooms and the prefects started their patrols.  Daphne and Ginny took over Harry and Hermione’s shift while the head boy and head girl spent the evening in the Gryffindor suite.

In that suite, Harry had his wife laying on her stomach in the center of the bed, as bare as the day she was born.  His hands were coated in vitamin E and he was slowly rubbing those hands over her calves and feet.  The fact that a little healing warmth was seeping through his fingers didn’t seem to upset Hermione at all.

Harry did not claim to be an expert on massage, but he did actually take the time earlier in the week to get some advice from Pomphrey.  The old witch was surprisingly adept at the art, given her profession, and proceeded to demonstrate several relaxation massage techniques. 

With that base understanding, he read further about magically sensual massages, not wanting to have that demonstrated by a witch old enough to be his great grandmother. He applied everything he knew now, and Hermione groaned in appreciation at his efforts. 

“Why didn’t you ever do this before?” she said into her pillow.

“Just learned it.”

“For me?”

“Of course,” he said, as if it were the silliest question in the world.  “It’s your birthday.”

“Will you use it on any of the other girls?”

“Why, think they would like it?”

“Gods yes!”  She groaned as he firmly massaged the muscles of her bare bum and moved up to her lower back.  As he did so, his own naked rump rested on hers, and she could feel his little wizard on her back. 

“Harry, take me now,” she said into the pillow.  She lifted her ass off the bed, amply showing the glisting lips of her sex.

“You mean…uh, Hermione, I thought we agreed we don’t want to do _that_.”

“I don’t mean bugger me, you dolt,” she said with a laugh.  She lifted her bum higher off the sheets, and he slid off, eyes wide. “Don’t you want to try different positions?”

Harry grinned.  “Ohh yes.”

Their lovemaking was gentle and lasting.  Eventually they rolled to their sides and continued as Hermione stretched nimbly to kiss him.  The sinuous movements of her body against his proved too much and he climaxed with a moan.

“That was wonderful,” Hermione whispered as she kissed him.  “And that makes the best birthday I have ever had.  Thank you, my love.”

Harry pulled her close.  “For you I would do anything, my love.”

Harry and Susan could have ten bouts of lovemaking in a night.  Sometimes he and Ginny, or Luna or even Daphne, could go four or five times a night.

With Hermione, though, it was usually only once or twice a night.  However, with her the coupling was never rushed or urgent.  She preferred long, relaxing coupling, and Harry was happy to oblige.  Neither ever woke up together feeling less than fulfilled. 

Two weeks later, as Harry and his wives were eating at their separate tables, a ministry owl swooped into the great hall.  He, Ginny and Hermione were eating together with their Gryffindor friends when the owl landed directly in front of Harry.

Everyone stared at the owl until Hermione said, “You should take the message, Harry.”

Harry gingerly took the paper and fed the owl some bacon before it flew back from whence it came.  Everyone knew that he had taken his NEWTS, so everyone was watching.  In fact, he could feel through the bonds as Luna, Daphne and Susan walked across the hall to stand behind him. 

He smiled as they gently draped their hands on his back.  “Well girls,” he finally “let’s see how we did.”

“We?” Ginny said.  “You took the test.”

“Yeah, but I had the best study sessions to prep for it anyone could have ever asked for.”  Those not in the family didn’t quite get it, though Neville was able to guess judging from his red complexion. 

With one last sigh Harry unrolled the scroll.  “Figures,” he muttered.  “Got Poor in History.”

Susan, however, was leaning over his shoulders with the others and gasped.  “Harry, you got nine NEWTS!  Most of them with Os!”

“Nine?” Hermione said.  She literally jumped the table to join the other wives as they stared at the scores.

“What can I say?” Harry said with a blush.  “Best.  Study.   Sessions.  Ever.”

All five of them gave Harry a resounding kiss while much of the hall cheered.  When it was over, Hermione grinned broadly, then straightened with a slightly curious expression.  “Excuse me,” she said.  She then turned and ran out of the Great Hall as fast as her legs would carry her.

“That’s odd,” Ginny muttered.  She and Susan followed.  A moment later, Harry, Daphne and Luna followed as well.

They found Hermione in a dead-end corridor leaning over the wall as she was quite thoroughly sick.  “Hermione!” Harry said.  “Are you okay?”

“Other than vomiting my last three meals, I’m just fine, Harry,” she said waspishly. 

Daphne quickly banished the vomit while Hermione straightened and performed a breath freshening spell on her mouth.  “Gods, I hate throwing up.”

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked.

“What do you think is wrong, Harry?” Hermione snapped.  “We’ve been having sex like rabbits since this summer, without any contraceptive charms.  I can’t imagine what’s wrong.”

All the girls realized very quickly that Harry was in that state of male-induced oblivion that such situations always created.  It was Susan who gently hugged Harry and said, “She’s pregnant, Harry.  You’re going to be a daddy.”

He stared at her with a gaping jaw and wide eyes.  “A daddy?”

He looked back at Hermione, who was still pale.  Then, his eyes rolled up into his head, and Harry Potter, Heir of the Four Founders, feinted dead away.   His five wives merely watched, stunned, as he fell to the floor of the hall.

“Now that’s just pathetic,” Daphne said.  Then she laughed. 

 


	23. In Which Susan Gets A Special Birthday Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once is an accident. But twice is a pattern.

“Well, congratulations are in order,” Pomphrey said after her brief examination of Hermione.  “You are indeed pregnant.  I’d put your conception right around your birthday, in fact.”

“Isn’t it a little early for me to have morning sickness?”

“Dear, witches often have morning sickness within days of contraception if the child is magical.”

The other wives squealed in delight and gave Hermione a group hug while Hermione tried to digest the idea of early morning sickness.  Harry sat, still dizzy, on a hospital bed opposite his wives.  He still wore a stunned, glazed expression.

“Harry,” Hermione finally said, “what did you think the point of all this was?  The point of us all rushing off and getting married before any of us were even of age?”

“Er, I…I know that,” Harry finally said, shaking himself out of his stupor.  He seemed to sink in on himself a little.  “It’s just…I guess I never really…”  He stopped and suddenly looked on the verge of tears.  “I never had a dad, Hermione.  I don’t know what dads are supposed to do.  What if I bollocks it up?”

“Harry, I’m just now seventeen.  Do you think I’m ready to be a mother?”

“But you’re Hermione Granger, Lady Gryffindor.  You’re the smartest witch of your age.  You can do anything you set your mind to.”  His eyes encompassed all the rest of his wives.  “You’re all brilliant.  And you’re all going to be great moms.  But I’m just Harry…”

“You know, if it weren’t for the fact that I know he believes that, I would be mad at him right now,” Daphne said.

“He is a bit thick at times,” Luna said airily.  She popped onto his lap.  “You have never been ‘Just Harry’ to any of us.  And I can say if you love your children even half as much as you’ve loved us, then they are going to have the best father that has ever lived.”

“Or, barring that, they’ll at least have a decent understanding of quidditch when they come to school,” Daphne added.

Harry kissed Luna deeply.  “Thank you,” he said.  Then he gently placed his Ravenclaw down and knelt before Hermione, who still had an irritated scowl on her face.  He leaned forward and hugged her.  “I love you so much,” he said.  “Thank you for being the mother of my first child.”

He felt the now familiar warmth rush out.  But this time, so did everyone else.  The other wives stood and backed up as a hazy golden glow enveloped the two.  When they finally parted, Hermione’s scowl was gone, replaced by an expression of adoration.  “Only you, Harry,” she whispered.

\--

\--

That night at dinner, Professor Dumbledore stood and announced that Harry had successfully finished his NEWTS.  Although nine was not a record, it well above the average of four to five that most students accomplished. 

The next announcement threw the school for a loop.

“Since Mr. Potter has essentially tested out of the rest of his education, I have decided to hire him as an assistant professor.  Mr. Potter’s duties will be acting as the official staff sponsor for the Defense Association, as well as the assistant professor for the new elective dueling class that will be starting this coming spring.  This dueling class will be a compliment to the Defense Against the Dark Arts class.  For the sake of ease, Mr. Potter will continue his duties as Head Boy as well.  Please welcome the latest addition to the Hogwarts staff.”

Other than the Slytherins, everyone in the hall applauded wildly.

\--

\--

Susan’s birthday fell on October 10th.  The party was a smash—almost all of Hufflepuff house attended, since even before her marriage she was well-liked.  Her parents even came, though unfortunately the Minister was unable to attend because of a scheduled meeting with the muggle Prime Minister.

“Guess I can forgive that,” Susan decided.

At one point, Susan’s father pulled Harry aside and the two went into the kitchen to talk.  “I understand Hermione is expecting,” Albert Bones said.

Harry nodded, his eyes automatically seeking out his first wife.  Hermione was not showing at all, but she did have a strange luster to her skin, and a gleam of life in her eyes. She looked more alive than ever, as if she were…then he smiled.  She had the glow of pregnancy.

Albertus watched the expressions flit across the young man’s open, honest face.  “Being a father is a big responsibility.  It’s going to be hard for someone so young.”

“I’m going to have a lot of help,” Harry said.  “I don’t think I could ever do it by myself.”  He shook his head, as if pulling himself from a pleasant dream.  He found Susan’s father staring at him intently.    “Susan’s going to be next.”

“You sure about that?”

“It’s hard for me to explain.  But something is telling me because she’s seventeen now, she’ll be next.”

“A couple of your wives are only sixteen.”

Harry nodded.  “And they’re not going to conceive, not until they reach seventeen.”

“How do you know?”

“Hogwarts won’t let them,” Harry said with absolute conviction.  “She wanted the bonding accelerated, but she won’t let any of the girls conceive until they’re old enough to safely carry a baby to term.  Seventeen is young, but then again Helga Hufflepuff was sixteen when she gave Gryffindor his first child.  Rowena was only fifteen.” He paused, remembering that there was nothing voluntary about Rowena’s first child.

Albert patted Harry’s shoulder.  “You’re a good man, Harry.  That was the only way I could have gone along with this circus.  If you need help in the coming years, family help that is, Stella and I will be here.”

“You will be here,” Harry said.  He spoke in a far away voice, as if envisioning the future itself.  “You will be a part of their lives, sir.  Not just Susan’s child, either.  You and Mr. Greengrass, Mr. Lovegood and Mr. Granger will be grandfathers to all of our kids, and you will all be an important part of their lives.  Just like your wives will all be their grandmothers.  We’re one family now, sir.  It’s a big family, but we’re the happier for it.  And I am truly honored to have you and Mrs. Bones as a part of it.”

“That means a lot, Harry,” Albert said.  He blushed.  “Well, I think it’s about time we head home.  You and Susan have some work to do.”

Harry chuckled even while he blushed as well.  “Yes, sir.”

After all the guests were gone and Hermione, Ginny, Luna and Daphne were all tucked in bed, whether theirs or another of their sister’s, Harry and Susan retreated to theHufflepuff suite where Harry demonstrated his new-found massage expertise.

He made it to her mid-calf before she spun about and tackled him with a hungry growl.

After two sessions of lovemaking on the bed, they moved onto other items of furniture; or the floor; or, with the aid of two self-levitation charms, the ceiling.  That was certainly an adventure.

Finally, after twelve bouts of lovemaking in the course of four hours, they settled down together on the bed, Harry’s arms wrapped firmly around Susan’s middle.  “You made a baby in me tonight, didn’t you?” she finally asked.

“I hope so, or that was a lot of wasted effort,” Harry said into her hair.

She turned, grabbed a pillow and slammed it into his face.  “Prat!  You enjoyed that as much as I did.”

“Gods yes I did,” Harry assured her with a laugh.  They settled back down and Harry cupped her voluminous breasts as he rested his face against her shoulder.  “You know, you are all going to be great mothers, but somehow I have a feeling you’re going to be the best.”

Susan turned to him.  “You’re not looking for lucky thirteen, are you?”

“I’m serious,” he said.  “Although thirteen isn’t as unlucky number as you might think.  But I’m serious.  You are so caring and generous, Susan.  Not just with things, but with your time and effort.  You would do anything for anybody who had need.  Hermione’s baby isn’t just going to be hers.  It’s going to be all of ours.  And the same with the baby we hopefully made tonight.  You’re going to be all their mothers, and they’re all going to be your children.  But of all of them, I just have a feeling that when they need a shoulder to cry on, they’re going to come to you first.”

“Got this all plotted out, have you, Harry?”

He smiled and had the far-away look in his eyes they had seen often.  “Each of you has a unique and special quality.  With Hermione, it’s her brilliance and love of learning. With you it’s your kindness and empathy.  With Luna it’s wild creativity and imagination.  With Daphne it’s cunning and strategy.  And with Ginny—well, she’s just a ball of pure determination, she is.”

Susan writhed against Harry.  “She is at that,” she said.  “Even I’ve heard of Molly Weasley.  Watching Ginny face down her mother like that was the bravest thing I’ve seen since you saved my life.”

As if just the mention of lifesaving was enough, she reached down, grabbed Harry by the nethers and deftly guided him into her ready opening.  “And thirteen is a very unlucky number, Harry.  That’s why we’ll have to make this at least fourteen for the night.”

“Okay,” Harry agreed with a sigh of pleasure.

\--

\--

No good deed goes unpunished.  Harry’s elevation to staff had a profound and unpleasant side-effect absolutely no one anticipated.

“I’m sorry,” Madam Hooch said with finality, “staff cannot participate in house Quidditch.”

Harry and Katie Bell, the new Gryffindor captain, sagged in defeat.  “Didn’t even dawn on me,” Harry said.  “I’m so sorry, Katie.”

“Who are we going to use for quidditch, then?”

Harry thought about it, then smiled.  “Well, Ginny, of course.  You saw how she flew last year.  On a Firebolt, she’ll be brilliant.”

Katie studied his face intently.  “Harry, last year when Umbitch kicked you off the team, I thought you were going to go bonkers.  Why are you suddenly okay with it this year?”

“Because my wife loves to play seeker,” Harry said.  “And this way, she can play all year and be as brilliant as I know she can be.”

The answer must not have been what Bell was expecting.  “You’re serious, aren’t you?  You’re okay with not being able to play a game you love because it lets someone else you love play?”

“Yep.”

She shook her head.  “Potter, you’re either absolutely insane, or you’re the best husband a girl could ask for.  Don’t suppose there’s a spot open for Mrs. Harry Black is there?”

The thing of it was that, as far as Harry could see, Katie was dead serious.  “Er, the Minister explained that I can’t really marry for the House of Black since technically I’m not a blood heir, just an heir through testament.  Sorry.”

Katie shrugged.  “Didn’t hurt to ask.  You’re a good guy, Harry.  I’m going to miss playing with you this year.”

“Thank you.  Give Ginny a chance, though.  You won’t regret it.  And you should consider Ron for keeper.  I know he’s a bit awkward, but that boy has the reach and he has a mind for quidditch.”

“I know, he hasn’t left me alone since term began.”

With that, the question of quidditch was resolved.  Two days later, they had their first recognized meeting of the Defense Association.  Since it was now an officially sponsored club, it was open for any student.

Harry was not pleased when he saw Blaise Zabini, Millicent Bulstrode and several other fifth, sixth and seventh year Slytherins sauntered into the great hall, which had been converted by the castle elves into a more suitable space.

Draco came with them, his face in a familiar leer.  His eyes, though, caught Harry’s for just an instant.  In that instance, Harry understood what was happening.

“So this is the infamous Defense Association,” Draco drawled.  He made a point of looking around the room.  Only fourth years and above were admitted, so there were no truly young kids there, but even so many were younger than Draco.  “Not much to look at, is it?”

“Draco, you and your friends aren’t wanted here,” Hermione announced. 

“We have every right to be here,” Draco came back.

“Up to a point,” Harry said coolly.  “Slytherins are welcome, Mr. Malfoy.  Our objection is not to the house, but to you and your circle of friends.  I remember very well what happened to my wife last month.”

Draco shrugged.  “What makes you think that had anything to do with me or my friends?”

Beside Malfoy, Zabini laughed.  “More to the point, what makes you think we can learn anything from you, Potter?”

“That’s Lord Slytherin to you, Zabini,” Harry snapped back.  Then he took on a predatory grin.  “Let’s make a game of it, then.  I bet the leaders of the Defense Association from last year can defeat you and your friends in a fair duel.  If they win, you leave and do not attempt to join.  If we lose, then you can stay as you wish.”

“And who would the leaders be, then?” Zabini said.

“Neville, Luna, Ginny, Hermione, Ron and myself,” Harry said.

“Longbottom?” Zabini laughed.  “Lovegood?  You think those two squibs can stand up to us in a fair duel?”

“The question is, can you stand up to them?” Harry said.  “Neville and Luna stood by my side and held of superior number of Death Eaters.  What have you done, Zabini?”

Harry looked over at Neville.  “You up to this, my friend?”

Neville raised his chin.  “You know I am, Harry.”

“I think it will be quite fun,” Luna said absently.  “If a Bulstrode falls and no one cares, will it actually make a sound?”

“You’re on, Potter!” Draco snarled.

“One at a time, then,” Harry said.  “Everyone, make room.  Consider this a preview of the dueling class.  Now rules—no unforgivable or dark curses.  If I see anything meant to maim or kill, you will be thrown out of this school so fast you’ll probably die from the acceleration.”

Zabini laughed.  “That’s as stupid a threat as I’ve….”

Suddenly one of the Slytherin tables piled against the far wall shot like a bullet over their heads and struck the near wall with sufficient force to reduce it to splinters.  “Do not forget who I am, Zabini.  I am the Heir of the Four Founders, Lord Hogwarts.  I have control over every ward and defense in the castle, and when I say you will be thrown out, I mean I will have the magic of this place lift you and throw you physically through the wall, and I have no doubt you will die in the process.  So make sure there are no dark or unforgivable curses.”

Zabini swallowed, and then fought for his arrogance.  “Fine.  I’ll handle Longbottom.”

“Then let the first match begin.”

As they prepared, Daphne sauntered over to Harry. “Blaise isn’t a lightweight, Harry.  You sure about this?”

Harry nodded.  In a calm but very loud voice, he said, “I’d trust Neville Longbottom with my life.  Win or lose, he’s the better wizard.”

His words had a near visible effect on Neville, who straightened his back and squared his shoulders as he stepped into the cleared space.  Around them, wards appeared to limit any accidental spellfire into the watching crowds.

“Begin!” Harry called.

Blaise opened up with a chain of gray offensive hexes.  Many of them would be painful if they landed.

Neville shook off a split second of hesitation before he rolled away from the first barrage and summoned a text-perfect  _protego_  spell.  His spell was perfectly formed and a healthy golden color that absorbed much of Blaise’s fire.

“Just going to sit there like a dunderhead?” Zabini roared as he continued firing.

Neville proved he wasn’t going to sit as he jumped away.  Though he did not move with grace or speed, he moved enough to stay out of the way of the worst spells, while blocking the rest with his magical shield.

Harry smiled when he realized Neville’s tactic.  Zabini already had sweat on his brow, and his spells were noticeably less bright after the first few minutes.  It was immediately after a long chain of spells that Neville spun about, brought his shield down, and yelled out an overcharged “ _Expelliarmus_!”

Blaise summoned his own shield, but exhausted as he was by his initial offense, the shield wasn’t enough to block all the power Neville put into it completely.  The two stunners that followed finished what the first spell started, and Blaise Zabini flew back and crumpled on the floor, unconscious.

“First duel to Neville Longbottom!” Harry called.

The whole room exploded in cheers for Neville.

“I’ll take Looney Lovegood,” Millicent Bulstrode announced in an angry, arrogant voice.

“How delightful,” Luna crowed.  She virtually danced into the open area, while Bulstrode, who was literally three times Luna’s size, stomped into position. 

“Same warning, same rules,” Harry said.  “Begin!”

Luna pirouetted like a ballerina, flicked her wand, and said, “Boo!”

From the tip of her wand came a creature none had seen before.  It looked like a saber-toothed bunny rabbit with antlers and a very large, crumpled horn on its nose.  It stood five feet tall at the shoulders and growled angrily at Bulstrode. 

“ _Diffindo_!” Millicent managed to yell as the crumple-horned snorkack attacked.  The transfigured beast disappeared in a cloud of dust, which parted as Luna sent no less than ten stunners in rapid succession into the larger girl’s body.  Millicent flew across the air like a child’s toy, hitting the flagstones with a heavy thud.

Luna curtseyed.  “That was ever so much fun,” she said with an airy grin.

One by one, the ministry six took on and defeated their Slytherin counterparts.  Ron Weasley, though he was not the strongest of the lot, still managed to just squeak by AdrianPucey, while Ginny took on a Slytherin girl none had ever seen.  Hermione absolutely destroyed her opponent, who barely even got a single spell off before being stunned, chained and hung upside down.

Finally, it came down to Malfoy and Harry. 

“I’m not going to hold anything back, Potter,” he said, snarling.

“Don’t worry, Draco, I will,” Harry smiled back.

Draco dropped to a knee to pronounce his curse when Harry waved his right hand.  A brilliant flash of bright light briefly blinded everyone there.  When they blinked the spots away, Draco was wrapped up in rope hanging from the ceiling thirty feet overhead.

“Now, Draco, are you and your friends going to honor the terms of the duel?”

“You’re not going to get away from this, Potter!” Draco screamed.

“Yes I am.  Now, are you going to honor the terms or not?”

“Yes, curse your balls, we’ll honor the terms!  Get me down.”

Harry released the young wizard, who screamed like a girl as he fell.  He stopped an inch from the floor thanks to Harry’s cushioning charm.  “Good.  Then go away.  All of you.”

When Draco and his circle were gone, Harry turned to the expectant, happy faces of the other students.  “I am the heir.  That duel wasn’t even remotely fair.  But the others fought fair duels, and you saw what they could do.  That’s what we’re going to learn in this club.  We’re going to learn to defend ourselves against those who mean us harm. We’re going to be going well beyond normal curriculum, but absolutely nothing dark.  By the time you’re done, I want you to be able to defend yourselves and your loved ones. And as you saw tonight, what you learn here can let you do that very thing.  Now, let’s get started, shall we?”

Needless to say, the first meeting of the DA was a smashing success.

Two days later, Harry woke up with Ginny in his arms.  She stirred, still with her eyes closed, and pressed herself against him.  “What’s wrong?”

“Susan,” Harry said.

Ginny’s eyes opened.  “Another attack?”

“Morning sickness.”

Ginny sat up, not even bothering to cover herself.  Thoughts of modesty when they were in the privacy of their own home didn’t last past summer.  “You’re sure?”

“Now that I know what it feels like with Hermione, I am.  I can feel it through the bond.”

“Is she okay?”

“I’ll give her a hug later.  That helped Hermione a lot.  Right now, though, I think she wants to be alone.”

Ginny shuddered.  “Am I going to get pregnant too?  Seems like it’s happening all at once.”

Harry kissed her shoulder.  “Not until late next year.  If I survive, you’ll probably get pregnant when you turn seventeen.”  He told her his theory, and she seemed to relax. 

“That’s good,” she finally said.  “I love you so much, Harry.  I’m just not sure I’m ready to be a mother.  I’m still getting used to the wife bit.”  Then his words caught up to her. “And what do you mean, if you survive?”

Harry shrugged.  “I can’t imagine Voldemort is going to wait two years to try and kill me.  The fight’s coming sooner than that, I can feel it.  And I know you’ve all been trying, but you’re no closer to solving my horcrux problem.  I just wish…”

Ginny shushed him with a kiss.  More than that.  She pushed him down onto the mattress and proceeded to shag his brains out.  When they finished, she lay on his chest and wept.  “Don’t you ever say that again,” she ordered him, even as she wept. “Not ever.”

Not knowing what else to say, he just held his youngest wife while she cried.

\--

\--

Susan surprised everyone at breakfast that morning, or at least she tried.  She sat down in their personal kitchen quarters, since it was a Saturday, and beamed.  She opened her mouth to announce her glorious news when Daphne said, “Sweetie, we heard you retching.  Congrats.  Now let’s eat.  Where are my pancakes, Potter?”

Susan wilted, then grinned.  “I’m going to be a mommy.”

Hermione gave her a tight hug, followed by all the rest, just as Harry placed a huge platter of pancakes before them with a steaming mug of hot maple syrup.  He then leaned over Susan and kissed her so hard all the other wives forgot to breath.  “You’re going to be a brilliant mommy,” he said when they at last parted for air.  “And I love you.”

He sat down between her and Hermione to eat, and Susan beamed at the rest of the table.  Finally, to Daphne, she very maturely put her hand to her nose and blew a whopper of a raspberry.  “So there!”

“Don’t get too excited,” Daphne said, after she stopped laughing.  “My birthday’s in December.”

“On the solstice, right?” Harry asked.

“Of course.  My dad insisted on an early delivery to make sure I was born on a holy day.”

“You mean Christmas?” Hermione asked.

Daphne shuddered.  “Perish the thought.  No, the real, original holy day.  The Solstice.  Remember, Granger, I’m a pagan.”

“Does that mean no Christmas presents then?” Hermione asked archly.

“Oh no, there better be presents,” Daphne said. 

 

 


	24. In Which Daphne Would Have Preferred Diamonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...which are probably cheaper in the long run.

“Well, we’ve been invited to the Burrow for Christmas,” Ginny announced on a Sunday morning in mid-November. 

“Molly wants all six of us to visit?” Hermione asked.  She had a very small bump now that was only visible when she wore her pajamas or nothing at all.  What was noticeable were the two now fairly large breasts that were attempting to break out of her pajama tops. 

Evidently they were quite sore, since she had taken to gently caressing them when she thought no one was looking, or when her mind was somewhere else, like that morning.

“Hermione, I’d be glad to do that for you,” Harry said. 

Hermione looked down and blushed.  “You just love me for my boobs.”

“No, I love you for you.  My love for your boobs is an entirely different affair.”

Luna flashed the table.  “Do you love my boobs?”

Harry grinned.  “Absolutely.”

“Mine are bigger,” Susan announced.   And she proved it, placing the two mounds on the table for all to see.

“By Hecate, you’re teets are as big as my head,” Luna said in awe.

“Hurt like the dickens, as well,” Susan added.   She carefully tucked them back into her shirt.

They all noticed Harry with a grin and a far away look.  “I think you broke him, girls,” Ginny said with a snicker.

“Boobies,” was all Harry would say.

Daphne reached over and smacked in him the back of the head.  This appeared to reset his brain, as he looked around.  “What were we talking about?”

“The Burrow,” Ginny said with a knowing grin.  “Mom wants us all to visit the Burrow.”

“You know, holidays are going to be a mess,” Susan noted.  “My family invited us for Christmas as well.”

“Mine won’t,” Daphne said.  “Dad’s head would explode having so many light witches around.”

“What if we danced naked around a bonfire?” Luna asked.

“You’d do the solstice rites?”

Luna shrugged.  “I’ve done them before.  Lovegoods weren’t originally a light family.  Dad just cared about mum more than the old ways.”

As they spoke, Harry remembered the good times he had at the Burrow.  In many ways, Molly Weasley was the mother he’d never had.  But as he looked around at his talking wives, sharing a breakfast of eggs, pancakes and bacon, he realized he didn’t need a substitute mother any more.  “We are our own family,” he finally said. 

The girls stopped talking and looked at him.  “I think…well, if you all agree…well, if they want to see us, they need to come to us.  I love Mrs. Weasley, but Ginny, you know she’d put us up in different rooms and throw a fit if any of us did something she didn’t like.  She can’t help it.  It’s just the way she is.”

“True,” Ginny said.

“And Susan, your parents are very nice, but I think it would be very crowded if we all went there, and a security risk to boot.  Luna’s dad…”

“Probably would not notice we were there,” Luna said.  “Also, he rarely has food in the house.”

“And Daphne told us about her house.  I just think that we should stay here for the holidays.  This is our home.  This is the first place I’ve ever been able to say that about, and I want to stay here with my family.  I mean, if you girls are okay with that.  I mean, we can go it you…”

“It’s okay, Harry,” Ginny said, smiling.  “We understand.  And I think it’s brilliant.”

Everyone else nodded their agreement.  “So maybe we should invite the families over for a Christmas dinner,” Hermione suggested.  She spoke a little sadly, knowing her own parents wouldn’t be there. 

“That would be brilliant,” Harry said.   “But it will have to be on Christmas or Boxing Day.  We have a very important date to celebrate before that.”

Five sets of eyes turned and stared at Daphne.  “Okay, I know I’m probably going to get preggers,” Daphne muttered, “but for the record I would prefer diamonds.”

Harry grinned.  “No reason you can’t have both.”

\--

\--

After a thrilling quidditch game in which Ginny pulled Gryffindor from the brink of losing to Hufflepuff, things settled back down to a comfortable pattern. 

The dueling class was an overwhelming hit.  With some excellent advice from Professor Flitwick, who himself was a professional dueler for a time, Harry wrote up a one-term curriculum and submitted it for review and approval by the Headmaster and staff. It was approved the same day.

Though he would never have admitted it at the time, Harry thoroughly enjoyed leading the DA.  That’s exactly how he thought about it, as well.  Leading.  He did not think of himself as a teacher, since that implied a role of adult responsibility he never thought himself capable of.

However, as an assistant professor teaching his own class, Harry had absolutely no choice but to face the fact he was teaching now.

He enjoyed it.  In fact, he loved it.  Moreover, his students seemed to enjoy it as well.  Like all elective classes, the dueling class was limited to third years and above.  Several ofHarry’s students were actually older than him, and some were very able duelists.

Rather than try to challenge them or cow them into obeying him, Harry on the very first day of class had everyone pair of by age, and picked the best duelers to actually assist him.  “After all,” he said, “I may have the power, but you have age and experience, and I’d be a fool not to want to use it.”

It had the effect of eliminating any rebellion or contempt from the seventh years before it even had a chance to begin.  That, and the fact that Harry soundly defeated all of them in an exhibition duel on the first day.  Though some of them were good, he had spent months dueling not just Albus Dumbledore, but Dumbledore, Alastar Moody and KingsleyShacklebolt.

Still, whenever Harry paused in his teaching or his own studies, he felt this weight about his shoulders.  A sense of doom, as if something terrible were coming.  The only time he was able to completely eliminate the feeling was in the arms of his wives.

\--

\--

Daphne’s birthday party was the most low-key party they had so far, and it was exactly what the Slytherin wanted.  Tracey Davis was there, of course, as were a few otherSlytherin girls that Tracey vouched for.  Her sister Astoria was there as well.

As the family enjoyed a quiet evening watching the charmed telly, Harry pulled the younger Greengrass aside.  “Is Draco upholding his end of the bargain?”

Astoria nodded.  Since Daphne’s marriage, the young Slytherin had become much more comfortable around Harry.  “I’ve seen Pucey and Zabini staring at me, but they haven’t tried anything,” she said.  Her cheeks flushed an adorable pink.  “Draco’s telling them all I’m his girlfriend so they’ll leave me alone.”

“Has he done anything to you…”

She shook her head.  “No.  Worse thing he’s done is take me to Hogsmeade.  Hasn’t even tried to kiss me or anything.”

Harry looked at the girl for a long time, his “love” senses, as Hermione termed them, tingling.  “You’re disappointed, aren’t you?”

She looked down at her feet.  “Astoria,” Harry said, “Draco is in a hard place right now.  But keep in mind that you’re only thirteen.  Draco will be seventeen in a few months.”

“I’ll be fourteen on the Summer Solstice.”

Harry grinned. Naturally the Greengrasses would time the conception of their daughters to fall on each of the solstices.  “And you’re a beautiful girl, too.  But that doesn’t mean you’re ready for a relationship with an older boy.”

She glared at him.  “You sound like Draco.”

Harry tried not to sputter.  “What?”

“That’s what Draco says, the stupid prat.  Lindsay Waller’s only thirteen and she’s already shagged a boy.”

That bit of news made Harry’s head spin.  “But you are Astoria Greengrass of House Greengrass,” Harry finally said.  He tried his best to convey a sense of authority.  “Your chastity is a testament of your nobility.  Don’t throw it away, Astoria.  Save it for when you’re ready.”

She snorted.  “You’re one to talk.”

She jumped when Daphne appeared behind her.  “Yes he is,” Daphne said in a soft voice.  “Because we’re married.  You’re not.  I love you too much to let you throw your innocence away like that.  You understand me, sis?”

Astoria looked like she was going to argue some more, but wilted under the determined stairs of her sister and brother-in-law.  “Oh, alright.”  She walked away to fetch abutterbeer.

When she was gone, Daphne turned and studied Harry for the longest time.  “The thing is, I shouldn’t be surprised you’d do that for her.  That’s what you do.”

“What?”

She leaned forward and kissed him.  Her tongue caressed his lips as her arms locked around his neck.  “You help people.  Even when they’re too young and stupid to realize they need it.  You’re the exact opposite of everything I was raised to appreciate.”

“I must be a disappointment then.”

“A huge one, Potter.  One huge, glorious, inconceivably sexy disappointment.”

“Probably don’t want your birthday present, then, do you?”

She reared back.  “Bite your tongue, Potter.  I want my present.”

Harry reached into the pocket of his robes and removed what looked like a book with a black velvet cover.  In the center of the book Daphne could see not the house emblem ofSlytherin, but the actual house of Slytherin coat of arms.

“Is this a grimoire or something?” she asked as she took the book from his hands.

She opened it up and her breath caught, so loudly everyone else stopped what they were doing.  They came over to see what was the matter, and all stopped and stared.

“Are those real?” Ginny was finally able to squeak.

It was a diamond necklace.  Or more accurately a chain of four carat diamonds, perfectly cut, strong along a rope of gold.  In the center of the diamonds hung a massive three carat ruby embossed with the Slytherin coat of arms. 

“Salazar Slytherin had two wives in his life,” Harry said.  “One he married for love.  One he married for a child.  His first wife was a Basque from Spain, like him.  He made this for her, and when she was killed during a Frankish invasion, he kept it.  It was his most prized possession.  And I can think of no one else more worthy to wear it than you.”

“Put it on me, Harry,” Daphne said.  Her voice came out as a whisper.

Harry lifted the necklace and draped it around her neck.  The ruby hung down until it rested just at the beginning of her cleavage.  He placed his hand over the ruby, and inparsletongue, whispered, “Activate.”

Everyone shuddered at the sound of the magical language, but for Daphne it was almost ecstatic.  It was a magic intrinsic in their house, and she could feel the power of theparseltongue spell burn through the necklace.

“What was that, Harry?” Hermione asked.

“A charm,” Harry said.  “For protection.  Slytherin added it after his first wife died.  It is a blood ward, much like what protected me at the Durlseys growing up.  He shed his own blood in penance for failing to protect his wife.”  He looked Daphne in the eyes.  “Though he did horrible things in his life, at one time he was a devoted and loving husband.  It is that example that I strive for with all of you.”

“You’re going to make a baby in me too tonight, aren’t you?” Daphne whispered back.

“If you let me.”

She looked back down at the brilliant jewelry.  “Oh gods yes, we’re going to make a baby tonight.”

“But make sure he gives you the massage first,” Hermione said, breaking the intense moment.

“Massage?” Susan asked. 

“He didn’t give you one?”

She blushed.  “I suppose he started too.”

The party wound down and once they were in the Slytherin suite, Daphne draped herself over her husband, kissing him passionately.  “Thank you for this, Harry,” she said between kisses.

“You’re very welcome.”

“Why didn’t you get Hermione beautiful jewels?”

“Because she wouldn’t have appreciated them as much as the books.”

Daphne shook her head, as if astounded.  “What did you get Susan?”

“A charm bracelet.”

“She didn’t show me.”

“I gave it to her in private.  I was going to do that with you too, but the right time came up.  But hers was charmed by Helga Hufflepuff for her oldest daughter.  Has protections almost as strong as yours, with lots of very large sapphires.”

“What will you get Luna or Ginny?”

“I’ll think of something.”  As they spoke, Harry was unbuttoning her shirt and removing her robes.  “Now,” he said, “I want you to lay down on your stomach.  I’ve yet to be able to do the full massage, and I’ll never get any better if I can never finish.”

It was actually harder of Harry with Daphne than for the others for the simple fact that of all five of his wives, and possible of all the girls and women in the UK, Daphne had the most beautiful ass he had ever seen or even heard of.  Still, he did his very best, rubbing her feet and up her calves while she moaned in silent appreciation.  However, when he came to the rise of her rump, she lifted herself up until he could see the glistening hair of her pubis, calling for him.  He was already has hard as a rock and simply could not resisslipping into her even as he straddled her body.

Then grinning devilishly at the delightful feeling, Harry continued kneading her lower back, up her spine and into her shoulders.  He gently rode her, thrusting softly as he worked out her muscles.

“Hecate below that feels so good,” she whispered.  She lifted her bum higher against him, pushing him back until somehow she was on her knees.  She moved her legs until her feet were outside of his, and then reached under her own body with one questing hand until he felt her long, delicate fingers probing his balls.

“Make a baby in me, Harry,” she whispered as she gently pushed against his prostate.

It felt like a switch going off.  Suddenly gentle was no longer sufficient.  With a low moan of pleasure Harry grasped her hips and pounded into that most beautiful ass in all of England, while she continued to press her fingers around his balls and against his prostate, until he exploded inside her in one of the longest and most intense ejaculations he had ever experienced.

“Gods, thank you!” he said.  He pushed against her, still throbbing inside, until the two were lying comfortably spooning on the bed.  He reached around and caressed her breast while she reached back and hand to pull him forward for a kiss.

“I love you, Harry,” she whispered to him, looking at him with intense, sparkling eyes.

“I really wanted to give you the full massage,” he smiled.

She lifted a leg and reached down, caressing the part of his shaft that rested outside of her body.  The magic of her touch struck again and he felt himself hardening while still inside her from the first round.  “No more massage, Harry,” she said.

 “Damn, thwarted again,” he said.

“Shut up and shag me, Harry,” she growled hungrily.  She arched her back and pressed that beautiful ass against him, forcing him to either push back or be pushed away.  He pushed back.  “Shag me like never before.”

He did his very best for the remainder of the night.

Part of the treat each girl received for their birthday was a breakfast in bed, and Harry made sure Daphne’s breakfast the next morning had everything she liked.  Fruit, fresh cream, eggs and pancakes.  They made love in the bath after they ate, another of her favorite pastimes, and only then deigned to join the rest of the girls.

“So, when do you think you’ll be puking?”  Hermione asked.  From her pale complexion, she’d had a bad morning.

Daphne shrugged.  “Don’t know.  But whether I get preggers or not, we sure did give it a damned good try.”

The other girls laughed and started talking about the Christmas party, while Harry once again had that far off look everyone had noticed him using more and more frequently. Finally, he said, “I need to make a trip today.”

All the girls started.  “What for?” Hermione demanded.

“It’s a secret,” he said.  “Don’t worry, I got all our Christmas shopping done.  But I do need to make a trip.  Probably won’t be back until the party.  It’s at noon, right?”

The five girls nodded, staring at him suspiciously.  “What are you planning, Harry?” Ginny asked.

He smiled sheepishly.  “Not going to tell.  But it’s nothing bad, promise.”

“You couldn’t do anything bad if you tried,” Daphne said.  “At least, nothing bad that’s actually, you know, bad.”

“I understood that,” Luna said.  She smiled at Harry.  “Enjoy your trip, Harry.  Remember, though, it was my turn tonight, so you’ll have to make up for it tomorrow if you’re late.”

“Promise.”

He left shortly thereafter. What he did next caused a mild wave of alarm in two separate countries. In England, the Ministry of Magic recorded a massive burst of apparationmagic, as if an entire army had just apparated out Hogwarts.  Fortunately, the headmaster was aware of Harry’s plans and put the ministry at ease.

However, when the Australian Ministry of Magic recorded an identical surge of apparition magic moments later, they had no headmaster to contact.  Instead they sent their aurorsen masse to the landing point.

They found a sixteen-year-old boy with raven-colored hair, brilliant green eyes and some interesting tattoo work on his hands.

He had apparated to a magical beach outside of Sydney, so the fact he appeared out of nowhere did not immediately cause panic, except for those few sensitive enough to feel the surge of magic that carried across the world in a single jump.

But the suddenly appearance of twenty Australian aurors certainly caused some unease.

“Er, hi,” Harry said when he found himself surrounded.  “Hope I didn’t set off any alarms.”

“Right, then, who’re you, mate?” the leader auror demanded at wandpoint.

“Harry Potter.”

“Yeah, and I’m the bloody queen.”

Harry lifted his black locks to show the scar.

The leader auror paled.  “What the ‘ell you doing, scaring us all like that, mate?”

“Never apparated this far,” Harry said.  “I wasn’t sure how much power it would take.”

Other aurors exchanged glances.  “Whatch’ya mean ‘this far’?  Where’d you pop over from?”

“Hogwarts, in Scotland.”

“Riiiigggghhhhht,” the leader auror drawled.  “Better come with me, lad.”

It took three floo calls before the Australian DMLE reached Dumbledore and confirmed that Harry had in fact come to Australia in a single apparition jump.  Once that was confirmed, Harry told them the reason for his visit, and was given a temporary visa.

“Thank you for your help,” Harry said as he walked away from the Australian ministry and dis-apparated silently across the city.  He found himself exactly where the ministry said he needed to be.

He walked in accompanied by the sound of a tinkling bell.  A receptionist with glaringly white teeth and a near cancerous tan that ran down the depths of her extensive and exposed cleavage looked up and smiled. The smile widened and turned a bit lecherous when she saw the handsome young man who walked in.

“Hello,” she said brightly.  “How can I help you?”

“Is this the practice of Michael and Emma Saint John?”

“It is.  But we’re closing early today because of the holiday, so I’m not sure we’ll be able to get you in.”

Harry removed a piece of parchment.  “It is very important that they read this note.  I’ll be here after.”

The woman’s smile faded a little in confusion.  She took the note and stood to deliver it.  Perhaps because of being married to five gorgeous young women, Harry found himself comparing the receptionist to his wives.

He decided he definitely had the better of any comparison.

A moment later, Saint John Granger stepped through the side door, his face flushed an angry red.  “You,” he snarled.  “Get in here.”

He pulled Harry through their office into a small conference room, where Calliope Granger already waited.  Mrs. Granger’s mascara was smeared with tears. 

Mr. Granger slammed the parchment on the conference table.  The only words were on the parchment were: “Hermione Granger is your daughter.”

It was the key that instantly restored their memories. The shock of it was obvious.  “Why the hell do you people keep doing this to us?  It’s bad enough to take our daughter away once, but this is the third bloody time!”

Harry should have expected the vehemence, but it still shocked him.  Under Saint John’s enraged glare and Calliope’s hopeless one, Harry found it difficult to swallow. Nonetheless, he came for a reason.  Squaring his shoulders, he said, “You’re going to be grandparents.”

Granger’s mouth was open, about to cut off whatever Harry was going to say, when the impact of the words stole his breath.  He sat down, the angry flush draining away from his face.  Next to him, Calliope’s hands covered her mouth and her eyes teared up again.

“She doesn’t like morning sickness very much,” Harry continued, desperate to fill the silence.  “I can usually stop it early, so she’s not suffering as much as she would otherwise.”

“What do you mean?” Calliope demanded.  “I was sick all day for three months with Hermione.”

Harry shrugged.  “I can heal those I love.  When I hold her, I pass some of my magic to her and it helps even out the hormones.  Susan hasn’t been sick since those first two weeks.”

“Another of your wives?” Saint John said hollowly.

Harry nodded.  “I came because you missed her birthday.  She smiled and tried to make a good show of it—you’ve missed her birthday every year because of school anyway, but this year was different.  I could feel her crying inside.  It only got worse after she got pregnant.  She’s afraid you don’t love her because of what she did, and that you’re not going to want to know your grandson.”

“How…how far along is she?” Calliope said.

“She conceived on her birthday, so she’s coming up on her first trimester.  She looks so beautiful, Mrs. Granger.  If you only saw her, you’d understand.  And that’s why I’m here.”

“What, to give us a glimpse of the bizarre little world that stole our daughter from us before ripping away our minds again?”

Harry shook his head.  There were no chairs nearby, so he simply transfigured one and sat down.  The two adults were staring at him, but he shrugged.  “Magic,” he said simply. Then he took a deep breath, raised his bangs, and pointed to his scar.  “See this?”

The Grangers nodded weakly.

“When I was just over a year old, Voldemort broke through my parents wards, murdered my dad, and was about to kill me.  My mom jumped in front of his killing curse.  Her sacrifice covered me in an ancient blood protection.  When Voldemort tried the same killing curse on me, it rebounded and destroyed his body, and most of my parent’s house.  It left me with this scar, but something else as well.” 

Harry sighed and found himself looking off into the distance between the Granger’s  heads.  “Voldemort didn’t die because he had created anchors for his soul. They’re calledhorcruxes.  They’re created by the blackest of magic and murder.  They allowed him to continue to exist in a spirit form, until he was strong enough to create a new body for himself at the end of our fourth year.  The only way to truly kill him is to destroy the horcruxes.  We believe he had seven.  We’ve already destroyed five, and the sixth will be easy enough when and if we can get to it.”  He lifted his bangs.  “And this makes me his seventh horcrux.”

Calliope stared in confusion.  Saint John shook his head.  “What does that mean?”

“It means, Mr. Granger, that in order to kill the greatest threat to life in the world, both magical and mundane, I am going to have to die.  The exact wording of the prophecy is ‘Either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives.’  It’s been prophesized.  This man has killed so many people.  Just in the past few months he’s wiped out whole villages in the West Country and killed hundreds of non-magicals.  And the only way to stop him is for me to die.”

Calliope’s eyes were running.  “Does Hermione know this?”

Harry nodded.  “She understood the moment she heard the prophesy.  She really is brilliant.  The reason I’m here is because I’m going to do it.  For Hermione, for Susan and Luna and Daphne and Ginny, I’m going to go face this madman, and I’m going to let him kill me, so that the son she and I created together will have a chance to live in peace. And when I’m gone, I need to know that she has a family to turn to who will care for her and love her as much as I do.  And that’s why I’m here.  I want you to come to Hogwarts with me tomorrow for our Christmas party, and I want you to make sure she knows that you love her.  And that you want to be a part of her life.  And when you come back, I’ll make sure you never forget her again.  Because I promise, she’s never forgotten you.”

 

 

 

 

 


	25. In Which Harry Has the Best Christmas Ever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are you also sensing a pattern?

“I can’t believe Harry’s going to be late to our own Christmas party,” Ginny whined.

Guests were already arriving.  The entire Weasley clan had come half an hour early, as was there wont.  Since Ginny was not one of the pregnant ones, Mrs. Weasley was ecstatic to learn of the future little Harrys.  Ron gave Hermione an awkward hug at first, until she squeezed him harder. 

“You know I’ll always love you, Ron,” Hermione said.  “Don’t think of me as a lost potential girlfriend.  Think of me as a new sister.  Because I promise our son will call you uncle.”

Ron managed a slightly dazed smile.  “That’d be brilliant.”

The Bones arrived on time, accompanied by the minister of magic, who gave Susan a long, lingering hug.  “I’ve never seen you look so beautiful,” Amelia said. 

“Thank you, Auntie Amelia,” Susan said.  She was a little weepy, but it was all in good spirits.  Dumbledore was there, of course, acting the part of the happy grandfather.  The only one still missing was Harry.

“So where has he gone?” Hermione finally asked Dumbledore.  “You used to never even let him step away from the Dursleys, and now you’re okay with him just disappearing for two days?”

“Lady Gryffindor,” Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eyes, “you speak as if I could somehow stop him.  I assure you, that time has long since past.  However, if I am correct, he should be here momentarily.”

“What do you…?”  Then Hermione felt it, as did all the wizards and witches in the family tower. 

A surge of magic so powerful it felt like a wind passed through them.  Suddenly, with a very loud pop, Harry stood in the center of the living room with two very stunned people in his arms.  He let go, and Saint John Granger blinked.  “That was nothing like what Professor McGonagall did.”

“She apparated you through a series of stops across the world,” Dumbledore said, immediately understanding what happened.  “Lord Hogwarts, however, is sufficiently powerful to have apparated you directly here from Sydney.”

Nearby, Albert Bones dropped his glass of firewhiskey.  “He apparated all the way from Australia?  Albus, that’s not even…”

“Mum?  Dad?”  Hermione stood frozen in the center of the room, eyes wide, lips trembling. 

The Grangers stared at her daughter, and then their eyes traveled down from her bulging chest to the subtle bump in her stomach.  Calliope let out a squeal as she rushed across the room to embrace her daughter.  Saint John moved a little slower, as if moving through sap, until he too arrived and wrapped his arms around his family.

Harry stood a few feet away, unabashedly crying.  “Happy Christmas, Hermione,” he said.  “I thought having your parents back might be a nice present.”

\--

\--

Harry cut the goose.  Hermione was laughing, flushed and happy as she sat between her parents.  Albert Bones and Arthur Weasley were commenting on the bread pudding while Mrs. Weasley was playing with Ginny’s hair, which was longer than ever. 

Ron and all of his brothers, even Percy, were talking quidditch.  During Ron’s second game he stopped ten quaffles.  Albus was happily telling tall tales to Amelia Bones while Daphne and Luna both listened attentively.  Susan and her mother were discussing bras and nursing. 

Harry had been weepy all day, but with a brilliant smile the whole time.  He hugged anyone who got too close, much to Percy’s very intense discomfort.  But sitting there slicing the Christmas goose and staring at all these people who had become an integral part of his life—who had become his family—Harry was struck with a sense of such overwhelming love it came close to actually hurting.

Then it all froze.  Molly’s hand held a strand of Ginny’s copper hair, while Ron was stuck in the middle of a sweeping motion to describe a play.  

He felt a warm hand on his neck, smooth and comforting.  And then he simply wasn’t there anymore.  He found himself atop the castle, with Hogwarts.  The incarnation of the castle’s magic was dressed in red Yuletide robes, as luscious and beautiful as the first time he envisioned her.

She smiled at him like an angel, and gently wiped a tear from his cheek. 

“Thank you for all of this,” Harry managed to whisper with a thick voice.  “For my family.”

“It brings me great happiness to see you happy, Harry,” she said. 

“It’s going to end soon, isn’t it?”

“Nothing is forever, not even me,” she said gently.  “I cannot tell you if the end is near.  But I can tell you that just as there cannot be day without night, so too can happiness not exist without sadness.  The road ahead of you and your family is not an easy one.”

“If…if I die before Ginny and Luna turn seventeen, then how…”

She draped an arm around his shoulders.  “At midnight, bring your brides to my heart.  You will know what to do then.”

“When are you going to start passing that around, Harry?”

Harry blinked and looked at Ron, who was staring at the large slice of breast expectantly.  “Right, sorry,” Harry said.  And dinner proceeded without problem.

Afterward everyone exchanged gifts.  Harry made sure Ginny had her own Firebolt.  In fact, all of his wives received a Firebolt as one of their gifts, as well as jewelry from their vaults.  There were movies and CDs for their charmed equipment, candies and treats, and new clothes charmed to fit any size.

With a crowd that big, the celebration was noisy, but it was a joyous noise, filled with laughter and happiness.  It was, in truth, the best Christmas Harry had ever had.  In a way, it was his very first family Christmas.

The visit went on well into the evening, until sometime after eleven the stragglers went home, and Harry found himself cuddling on their couch with five beautiful women, watching “It’s a Wonderful Life”.

“Who’s turn is it?” Luna suddenly asked.

“Mine,” Ginny said. 

“Er, actually…” Harry began.

All five girls looked up.  “I was told we have to go someplace tonight.”

“Told by whom?” Hermione said.

“Would you believe Hogwarts?”

“After everything, yes, I would believe it.”  Hermione stood up, virtually glowing in the gentle, flickering light of their fire.  “So when do we have to go, and where are we going?”

“The Come and Go Room, at midnight.”

“Any idea why?”

Harry shook his head.  “No.  She just said to come there.”

Daphne sat up.  “Well, for the record, I’m pregnant.”

“It’s only been two days!” Ginny exclaimed.

“Had Pomphrey did a deep scan.  I’m pregnant.”

Harry grabbed her hand.  “Our son is going to be scary smart.”

“He’d better be the bloody Minister of Magic,” Daphne said. 

Harry stood and gathered his angels around him.  “It’s time to go.  Everyone stay together.  There are others about tonight.”

“Hogwarts tell you that too?”

“I can feel them,” Harry said.  “But they won’t harm us.”

Ginny took his hand.  “Harry, you’re kind of scaring us.”

He blinked down at her.  “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to.  Come on, let’s go.”

They climbed onto the stairs and let the charmed steps slide them gently down to the entrance of the tower.  As they stepped out, all of them stopped.

The air was alive with ghosts.  Hundreds and hundreds of them floated all around them.  A pervading luminescence poured from the walls, and they saw that every figure in every painting was holding a candle, and from those painted candles came a gentle glow.

They recognized some of the ghosts.  Harry saw Nearly Headless Nick, the Bloody Baron with the Gray Lady by his side, the Fat Friar and even Moaning Myrtle, who was staring at Harry with an odd, wistful smile. Even Professor Binns was there. The entire Headless Hunt was there, as were dozens Harry had never seen before.

“Harry?” Ginny asked, clutching his hand tightly.

Harry, though, felt a strange floating calm.  “It’s okay,” he said.  “They’re here because of us.  Because of the power we bring.  They are here to honor us, not harm us.”

Holding hands tightly, the six of them walked among the dead through the hallowed halls of Hogwarts until they reached the third floor corridor.

The Room of Requirement, or Come and Go Room, stood open and inviting.  Harry led his wives inside.  The room was pitch black, save for a circle of white light in the center. It was, in fact, exactly how he remembered it from when he first bonded with the castle.  Only the bed was much larger, and circular, draped in red satin and velvet.

They stepped into the light, and from the other side came Hogwarts.

Harry felt Ginny’s hands tighten.  Of all of them, Luna was the first to step forward.  She did not curtsy or bow.  She stepped to this beautiful incarnation of a thousand years of living magic and wrapped her in a hug.

“Thank you for bringing me to Harry,” Luna said simply.

“And thank you for going to him,” Hogwarts said.  Her voice was rich and throaty, both immediate and alive, while stunningly ancient.

Hermione found herself moving as well.  She too wrapped the woman in a tight hug.  “Thank you,” she said.

“Thank you, my child.”

One after the other, the woman in Harry’s life hugged Hogwarts, until only Harry remained.

“You have come to ensure the continuation of the lines,” Hogwarts told them.  She looked at Ginny with a beauteous smile.  “Even the Potter line, which we accord as much honor as the lines of my creators.  What we do tonight is the most ancient of magic, known even from the time before the Pharaohs.  Tonight, we shall create life.  Tonight, we shall bond the six of you to me, and me to all of you.  And through that bonding, we will ensure that the lines are never again lost.

“This bonding can only be done through shared love, both physical and spiritual.  The bonds that formed before your marriage were in preparation for this day.  The comfort you have gained in each others’ arms, and the love you have given so freely to each other, was in preparation for this day.  You cannot participate in this ritual except through your own will and unhesitating choice.  Will you join us?”

Five pairs of eyes turned to Harry, who stood simply smiling back at them.  “We will,” they said, almost as if the answer had been rehearsed.

“Lord Hogwarts, disrobe.”

Harry removed his casual slacks and shirt, his boxers and socks, and stood naked before them.  At any other point in his life, he would have been blushing up a storm.  But now he felt such comfort and trust in the women before him that there was no embarrassment.  No modesty.

“Come, and lay on the bed. “

Harry did as she asked, and lay on his back in the center of the large round bed.

Hogwarts then let her own red robe fall.  “Brides of the heir, it is time as well.  Disrobe.”

There were one or two glances, and a nervous grin or two, as the girls took their clothes off.  Hogwarts guided them around the bed until they formed a pentagram. 

“The power of the Heir is to love without limit,” Hogwarts said.  “The purpose of this power was to aid in the continuation of the lines.  For make no mistake, his sexual endurance is a magical quality far beyond his own physical ability.  It is a basic part of his magical core.  Upon becoming the heir, he could never have married just one woman, for his love was more than any one woman could contain.  This was intentional, so that the lines would be genetically strong.  But it was never anticipated that the heir would also have such a heavy destiny upon his shoulders.  And that, my daughters, is why I strengthened your bonds so early.  All of you were fated to be Harry’s wives, but his destiny caused me to hasten what would have eventually happened naturally.

“His destiny draws closer.  What we do tonight is my way of ensuring that a part of him will always survive.” 

She stepped onto the bed.  Where each of Harry’s wives was beautiful, they were also lithe with youth.  Even Susan, who with her larger breasts and wider hips, had the svelte thinness of youth.  Hogwarts stood as a woman in her prime, luscious and ripe, beautiful and inviting.  She walked across the bed without causing any depression in the mattress.

“Lady Gryffindor, as first wife, come forward.”

Hermione came without hesitate.  “Will this hurt the baby?”

“I could never hurt the next Lord Gryffindor,” she said.  “What we do tonight ensures that there will be more than one.”

Hermione nodded.  “What do I do?”

Hogwarts smiled, and for the first time the expression looked faintly naughty.  “I must love Harry until his seed is within me, but it is you who must feel his magic.  By doing so, it will be your bond and your magic that I capture with his seed.”

Hermione looked down at Harry. “You sure this wasn’t your idea?”

He laughed, as did the other girls.  “It wasn’t,” he promised.  “But…I would like to taste you.   There are still things we haven’t done.  Let me make you happy, Hermione, like you’ve done for me.”

“This is a little awkward,” Hermione said.  She knelt down on the mattress beside his head.  She turned and watched as Hogwarts leaned over Harry’s abdomen.  His lower half disappeared under a shower of auburn curls as the embodiment of Hogwarts performed fellatio on Harry.  He tensed beside Hermione, flushing brilliantly.  His eyes, though, were not on what Hogwarts was doing to him.  His eyes were only on her.

“I love you, Hermione,” he said simply.

“I love you, Harry.  Forever and always.”

Hogwarts lifted her head to reveal his ramrod erection.  “Now, Lady Gryffindor.”  She squatted down on strong, luscious legs and slipped the rod directly into her center. Hermione nodded and swung her leg over Harry’s chest until she straddled his face. 

“I guess you should talk dirty to me,” she said with a smile.

He grinned up, then licked the lips of her labia.

“Huh,” she said, surprised by the wave of pleasure that surged through her body.  “Harry, what are you…oh.  Oh.  OH!”

It wasn’t just his tongue and his fingers.  It was his magic.  It was the warmth of his healing distilled into sheer ecstasy as he ran his tongue around her clitoris.  It poured through her body like nothing she had ever experienced.  As Harry caressed her womanhood with his mouth, lips and tongue, an incredible magic began to gather around them.  It was golden and pulsing and brilliantly alive.  It brought sweat to Hermione’s skin as she found herself pumping against him.  She should have been afraid it would hurt him, but she couldn’t stop, and he didn’t seem to mind at all.

Against her bare back she felt the nipples of Hogwarts brushing her skin as she too bucked hard with Harry inside of her.  “It comes,” Hogwarts whispered in her ear.  The magical being’s hands reached around Hermione’s ribs and cupped her stomach, just under the bouncing swell of her breasts.

“Let the magic go, Lady Hermione.  As his seed pours within me, so let his magic and his love pour within you.”

“I’m already there, sister,” Hermione gasped with a shudder as the most unbelievable orgasm she had ever experienced rippled through her body.  Between her legs Harry grunted and moaned as he released within Hogwarts.

Hermione could not move as the tremors of pleasure cascaded over her body.  When at last the intensity passed, she collapsed onto the bed beside Harry.  His chin and cheeks glistened with the wetness of her sex.

She didn’t hesitate for a moment before leaning over and latching her lips to his.  She could taste her own juices on his lips, and felt a second wave of orgasm ripple through her body.  “Sweet babe Maeve,” she whispered.  “That was incredible.”

“You have done well, Lady Gryffindor.”  Hogwarts rose from Harry.  Her body glistened, but not with sweat.  Rather, she glistened as if she had recently received one of Harry’swonderful messages.

“Though the marriages were performed as you thought the order of tattoos,” Hogwarts said, “the tattoos were ordered by right to left.”  She turned to Susan.  “As Hufflepuff was most beloved of Gryffindor, so too should Lady Hufflepuff be second wife.”  From atop the mattress she offered her hand.  Susan looked at the half-lidded eyes of her sister wife and grinned as she took the hand and stepped onto the bed.

Once again Hogwarts descended on Harry, hiding his manhood in a shower of auburn tresses.  Hermione lay on the bed near Harry’s head, exhausted and satiated and beautiful in her pregnancy. 

Susan leaned down and kissed him hard, licking his lips.  “I can taste my sister on your lips,” she whispered.

“And soon I’ll taste you,” Harry promised. 

Hogwarts raised her head, and again Harry was ramrod straight and ready.  “It is time, Lady Hufflepuff.”

“It is indeed,” Susan said as she swung her leg over his chest until she straddled him.  She looked over her shoulder as Hogwarts again too Harry’s member into her body.

“By the gods that’s so hot,” she said.

“Try watching it from the sidelines,” Daphne said in a very strained voice.

“At least you’re not last,” Ginny said.  Her voice was shrill and a little cracked.  “I am last.”

“But never least, beautiful one,” Hogwarts assured her, even as she began rocking and rubbing her large breasts against Susan’s back.

Susan did not even notice as Harry began on her.  “Ohhhhh.”  Her moan of pleasure was deep-throated and intense.  “Ohhh gods, yes!”  Susan’s swollen breasts bounced in time with Hogwart’s bouncing, while Harry continued to suckle and tease her clit.

“Let the bonds be strengthened,” Hogwarts said.  “Lady Gryffindor, attend your sister.”

Hermione sat up and looked at Susan.  “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“I have,” Susan gasped.  The two came together and kissed, as Harry continued his tongue-lashing.  The magic that swelled around them was even more intense this time, forming a discernable bubble around them.

Hermione’s lips travelled down Susan’s neck, to her chest, to her swollen breasts.  She could feel her sister wife trembling under a pleasure she knew was more powerful than anything they had felt from Harry.  The whole bed moved with the rocking of Susan, though not of Hogwarts.  Even as her lips latched onto Susan’s nipples, a small part of Hermione’s mind wondered if what was making love to Harry right now was corporeal at all. That thought broke when she felt Harry’s hand inch up her left leg until his fingers found her labia.  His fingers slipped inside her moistened body, curling and pulling gently against her pubic bone.  It was as if his fingers knew exactly where to touch, and she found herself shuddering through yet another orgasm.   

“Let the magic go, Lady Susan.  As his seed pours within me, so let his magic and his love pour within you.”

“Uh-huh,” Susan moaned, now beyond words, as her whole body began shaking violently in orgasm.  She had both hands on Harry’s head now and was pulling his face against her sex.  Again, Harry moaned as he too climbed into Hogwarts.  And Hermione came against his fingers once more  just because she could.

“I think I came just watching,” Daphne gasped.

“I’m on number two myself,” Luna proclaimed with a fervent happiness in her eyes.  “And I’m next.”  She started jumping lightly on the balls of her feet, causing her pert little breasts to bounce enticingly.

Ginny squeaked and flushed bright red.

Susan collapsed onto the bed just below Hermione, near Harry’s right leg. Hogwarts rose effortlessly again, as before glistening beautifully in the white light.  “Lady Ravenclaw, though the ancestor of your name suffered greatly in matters of love, still she bore great love for her family.  It is time for you to bring happiness to that line.”

“Okay!” Luna chirped as she took the proffered hand and hopped onto the bed.  She didn’t go to Harry’s head, though.  With a grin up at Hogwarts, she bent over his torso, and took his half-deflated shaft in her mouth.

“Luna!” Hermione gasped in surprise.  “The ceremony!”

“It is good,” Hogwarts said.  “Do not let the chains of old beliefs stop you.  This is a celebration of life most basic.  Of touch and love and pleasure.  So long as his seed spills within me, you may all touch him however you please.”

Luna rose up, and looked down at her handwork with a happy smile. “I think he’s ready for you.”  She reached up a pale hand and ran it from the swell of Hogwart’s hip to the rise of her public hair.  “I can taste your magic on him.  You are so beautiful.”

Hogwarts squatted down until again Harry’s member sunk deep within her.  She leaned over and kissed Luna.  The kiss turned into a full embrace.  “And you are beautiful as well, my dearest Ravenclaw.  Go and let his magic fill you.”

“He always fills me,” Luna said dreamily, even as she swung her leg over his face.  She reached down to either side of Harry even as his tongue caressed her.  “I love you so much, Harry.  I love all of you so much.  I can never thank you enough for making me a part your family.”

“I love you too,” he said very clearly from between her legs. 

Luna looked over to Daphne and Ginny, standing forlorn with need.  “Come,” Luna finally said.  “You are a part of this family.  And I want some girl kisses.”

Daphne pounced almost hungrily onto the bed.  She wrapped Luna in a passionate embrace even as the young Ravenclaw began shuddering with pleasure.  Ginny sat on the edge of the bed, less sure.  It was Hogwarts who took her hand.  “Be with your family, Lady Potter.”

“My mother would call me a scarlet woman.”

“Scarlet is the color of life and love.  The color of passion.  The color of Gryffindor.”  She guided Ginny until the youngest wife sat between Hogwarts and Luna.  By this time, Luna was literally shivering in continuous waves of pleasure, her teeth chattering as wave after wave of orgasms rocked through her.  The magic was more than palpable.  It clung to their skin. 

Harry grunted in release as Luna literally collapsed over his face, gasping.  Hogwarts rose, and Ginny found her face just inches away from Harry’s glistening member.  It was only partially deflated.  She looked up at where Hogwarts stood.

The goddess of the castle smiled down at her and simply nodded.

By this time, Luna had rolled off and Daphne had quickly taken her place.  “Eat me, Harry!” she commanded with a happy growl. 

Ginny reached out a narrow hand and grasped Harry.  Not just his member, but his whole package.  She leaned forward and tasted him gently.  She didn’t know what to expect. She’d played at this before—especially during his birthday—but had never truly taken him in her mouth before.

Her tongue encountered musty sweetness.  A tang, like ancient fruit.  It was not the taste she would have associated with a woman.  But then again, it wasn’t truly a woman who had been making love to Harry.  It was a being of pure magic.

She took him inside her mouth.  She heard him gasp, and knew that she was doing that.  She was giving him pleasure, just as he had so completely and thoroughly pleasured her since their wedding night.  She didn’t want to stop.  She wanted him to orgasm.  To spill into her mouth.  She had no idea what it would be like, but suddenly she just wanted to taste his seed.  But a gentle hand made her pause. 

“Not just yet, my sister,” Hogwarts said. 

“I want him to be happy,” Ginny said, tears in her eyes.

“He is, beloved,” Hogwarts promised her as she slid down.  Ginny watched, entranced, as Harry’s manhood pushed aside the creature’s magical flesh and slid deep into her body.  For all their loving, they loved as young people, without experience.  This is the first time Ginny had actually watched Harry love another so closely.

She felt warmth and moisture gather between her own legs.  Then a hand was there.  It was not even her hand.  But she didn’t care anymore.  She closed her eyes and moaned as deft fingers worked their way around and within her. 

At the head of the bed, Daphne was shuddering and rocking, crying out, “Yes!  Hecate’s tits, yes!”  She leaned her upper body back to press against Hogwart’s breasts.  Ginny opened her eyes enough to see Luna on her knees, her bum up in the air with Harry’s hand between her legs, while she had her hand on Ginny.  The Ravenclaw’s lips were on Ginny’s breasts.  On the other side of the bed, Ginny heard Hermione moaning in pleasure.

Luna’s mouth moved progressively lower down Ginny’s body, and she found that she could not resist.  She did not want to.  She pulled her own legs further apart and threw her head back as Luna’s lips found the lips of her sex in a delicious, stunning kiss.

Harry’s thrusts grew frantic.  Ginny was enraptured by the slapping sound of bodies colliding in passion even as she gloried in Luna’s tongue tasting her.  Daphne cried out as she fell forward, grinding her groin against Harry’s chin just as Harry’s hips arched into Hogwarts. 

And then hands were on Ginny’s shoulders, guiding her to Harry.  She looked down at him, flushed and sweating, his eyes half in his head and his face glistening with the combined juices of four other woman.

“Hello, Mrs. Potter,” he said in a deep, throaty voice. 

“Hello, Mr. Potter.”  She turned over her shoulder and saw both Susan and Luna working on Harry while he gently rubbed one hand over Hermione’s inner thigh, while the other hand caressed Daphne’s perfect breasts. 

“Last, but never least,” he said.  “I love you, Ginny.  I want to taste you.”

She leaned down and gently kissed his lips. They were salty and musky.  She could smell all of her sister wives, and taste them as well.  “Promise me you’ll be there to see our son born.”

“I promise,” Harry said. 

With a nod, she swung her leg over his chest and spread her thighs as wide apart as she could.  “Then taste me, my husband.”

 


	26. In Which Dumbledore Loses Something of Import

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Play's the thing!

Boxing Day dawned cold and cloudy.  Beyond the narrow windows of the family tower, snow fell gently to coat the world in virgin white.

Ginny’s eyes popped open.  They were not in the Room of Requirement any more, though she could not even begin to remember how they got back to their room.

Other things began to creep into her senses, such as the fact that they were in Harry’s personal suite, on a massive round bed.  Then she became aware of a hand between her thighs.   She looked down and saw Luna stretched luxuriantly on her side, one arm shot out to touch Ginny, the other resting on Harry’s stomach.  She looked to her other side and saw long, ridiculously shapely legs, a mound of raven black short hair, and the swell of hips.  Daphne, then.

She started to move and froze when Luna’s fingers twitched against her sex.

The memory of last night’s ecstasy rippled across her skin as goose pimples. As if she could sense Ginny’s reaction even in her sleep, Luna’s index finger slowly began rubbing up and down just inside the fold of her outer labia. Ginny bit her lower lip to keep from moaning and waking everyone up. 

She looked up, and there was Harry’s little wizard, laying down on the job.  As Luna’s fingers gently caressed her, she leaned forward until her nipples rested against his thigh, and took the lax member in her hand.  She kissed it, loving the soft feel of his skin against her lips. 

The softness did not last for long, though.  She felt the blood rush into it, causing it to increase to three times its length, like magic.   It was fascinating to watch the veins in his penis fill until it filled the whole of her hand like a hard sausage.  Grinning, she wrapped her lips around his head.  She could taste the musty salt of her sisters on it, for after the ceremony that had continued loving each other.  Still grinning, she slipped it further into her mouth, though she could not take much in at a time.  Instead, she used her hand to gently begin pumping at his organ while running her tongue around his head.   

She wanted him to feel even just a tiny portion of the pleasure he gave her last night.

She gave up on trying to let the others sleep as warmth washed through her.  Luna was now wide awake, and had moved forward until it was her face where her fingers were moments ago.  Ginny gave herself wholly over to the sensation for the very first time.  She spread her legs apart as wide as she could, just in time to feel Harry come fully awake.

His hands reached down and wove a symphony of sensation through her hair.  His fingers were hot with magic.  She did not stop though as she lifted herself higher and suckled and pumped for everything she was worth.

“Oh Ginny,” she heard him whisper, and the warmth inside of her blossomed.  As much as Luna’s tongue, the simple fact of him calling her name caused ripples of pleasure to cascade through her body.  She was going this to him.  For him.  She had a power of her him that excited her more than any of their previous lovemaking.  She continued to suck and pull, until his hips buckled forward, the fingers turned into a desperate grip against her head, and she felt tension run up the length of his shaft, between her lips and into her mouth.

It was salty and thick and unlike anything she had ever imagined.  It was Harry.  His essence.  It was a magic so powerful it washed against her magical core and lit her up like a Christmas tree.  Suddenly Luna was on her, kissing her and demanding what she held between her lips.  The Ravenclaw girl’s body pressed against her as she shared their mutual husband’s seed.

She could feel the magic of his essence within Luna as well.

Finally, they noticed the others girls watching them.  Hermione, Susan and Daphne, all three already carrying Harry’s heirs.  Hermione leaned across his body, her own swollen breasts ribbing against his stomach, as she kissed Luna.

Ginny watched, surprised, as Daphne leaned over Harry’s feet toward her.  She smiled, still holding Harry’s seed in her mouth, and let the Slytherin’s lips open onto hers.  As with Luna, she shared and felt the magic settle into Daphne as well.

Both Hermione and Daphne turned to Susan, who accepted a kiss from each.

Finally, they all sat back, as naked as the day they were born, and looked down at Harry.

“That was the most incredibly hot thing I have ever seen,” he declared with a happy smile.  “Pancakes, anyone?”

\--

\--

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore sat in his seat reading Spenser’s original wizarding version of the Fairie Queene while sipping his brandy.  Spenser re-wrote his epic poem extensively for Queen Elizabeth, framing it as a Christian morality tale.  The original, of course, was nothing of the sort and was written in large part from the perspective of Archimago, whose biography Albus owned.  Painted as villain by Spencer, the wizard was actually quite renown for his work in building the wards upon which Diagon Alley now rested.

His own wards alerted him to a visitor.  “Come,” he said.

The door to his office opened and Severus Snape stepped in.  The potions professor looked more pale that usual.  Dumbledore put down his brandy.  “Severus?”

“The Dark Lord begins his plans this very night,” Snape said before the man collapsed into a boneless heap on the floor.

Dumbledore was on his feet immediately and knelt down beside his friend.  “Severus, what happened? Does he know?”

“He has given me a test,” Severus said.  “Just as he did Malfoy.”

“You told him about the wand?”

Severus nodded.  “Malfoy was instructed to bring a vanishing cabinet into the school.  It is a portal to another cabinet the Dark Lord controls.  They mean to strike tonight.  If you survive, then Draco and I do not.”

Dumbledore nodded.  He had expected as much.  “Well then, my friend, we had better make sure that I do not.”

Elsewhere in the castle, Draco Malfoy made his way through the darkened halls.  It was near midnight on Boxing Day, and all those who stayed in the castle were asleep, or should be.  All save the lone Slytherin stumbling through the halls.

He finally arrived before the stone effigies of the lion, the snake, the badger and the raven.  “Please,” he said with a cracked, strained voice, “I must see Potter.”

The four effigies slowly moved aside, and Draco stumbled into the stairs.  Halfway up his knees gave way and he found himself crawling.  Finally, he reached the heavy wooden door that formed the threshold of Harry’s private dwellings.  The door swung open, and Draco looked up into the back-lit silhouette with watery eyes.

“Harry?” he asked.

Strong hands helped Draco up and suddenly he found himself in Harry’s common room, a fire blazing nearby.  All five of Potter’s wives were there, though Luna appeared to be curled up and sleeping in an oversized chair near the fire.  The others, though, immediately realized something was wrong.

“What’s happening?” Harry finally asked.

Sobbing, Draco pulled back his right sleeve.  Over the angry scars from the fire Harry used to purify him, they could clearly see the skull and serpent tattoo of Voldemort’s mark. “He put it back on,” Draco sobbed.  “I didn’t have the guts to say no.  It’s happening tonight, Potter!”

Just then Dumbledore strode in.  He saw the pale, shaking form of Draco sitting on the floor before Harry and simply nodded.  “Draco,” the headmaster said urgently, “have you already brought the cabinet in?”

Draco nodded.  “They’re going to start coming any minute now.”

“Death Eaters?” Hermione asked.  She understood exactly what was happening.

Draco nodded.  “And I have to kill the headmaster.”

“Not you, Draco,” Dumbledore said.  “You are to try, but the actual task will fall to Severus.”

Harry blanched.  “What do you mean?  You’re not actually going to let him kill you, are you?”

Dumbledore held up his wand.  “Tom wants this, Harry.  Do you know why?”

Angrily, Harry started to say he didn’t care, but beside him Hermione gasped.  “The Elder Wand!” she said.

“Indeed,” Dumbledore confirmed.  “This is the Elder Wand.  I became its master when I defeated Grindelwald.  It’s a myth that the wielder cannot be defeated.  What is not a myth is that it will serve its master greater than any other wand, no matter how good the match, and will not work against its master.  Why do you think Tom would want such a wand, Harry?”

“To get around the  _priori incatatem_ ,” Harry said.  “But Headmaster, you can’t just let him kill you!”

Dumbledore shrugged.  “Severus must have a clear memory of obtaining my wand and killing me.”

“And then he’ll have a wand that can destroy me,” Harry said.

He paused when Luna, of all people, grabbed his arm.  She looked up at him with sleepy, silvery eyes.  “The wand cannot be used against its master,” she said softly. 

“So Tom won’t be able to use it on….”

“The wand will only serve the one who defeats its old master,” Dumbledore said.  “Harry, I haven’t been the master of this wand since before school started.”

The two men stared for the longest time.  “Do you mean….”

“If Tom Riddle were to cast the killing curse at you with this wand, Harry, it would only destroy that part of himself that resides in you.”

Hermione gasped.  “That’s why you gave me the book…”

“I am sorry to have kept this from you,” Dumbledore said.  “I was never sure my plans for Tom would work.  Obviously, they have.  But I tell you this, Harry.  Though I will do everything I can to survive, if it means allowing you to defeat Tom Riddle and live to love your family, then I saw now I would gladly die for you.”

Harry stood as if struck by a petrifying spell.  “Professor….”

Dumbledore took a step closer.  “You are the finest wizard—the finest man—I have ever had the privilege of knowing, Harry.  As much as I loved both your parents, you are so far beyond them in your basic goodness, in your capacity for love, that even they would look upon you with awe.  You have a terrible burden upon your shoulders.  But I assure you, after one hundred and fifteen years, my life is not a part of that burden.  I will do whatever I must to ensure that you are able to do what  _you_  must.” 

The old wizard looked down at the speechless Draco.  “Remember this day, Mr. Malfoy.  But do not be afraid.  You and I, we have much work to do.”  He turned his twinkling blue eyes back to Harry.  “I must ask that you stay in this room, Harry.  Hogwarts herself will save you.  Do not go out.  Though you could easily defeat those who mean us harm this night, what happens tonight MUST happen, if we are to have any hope of peace in our lives.”

Harry took a step forward, then another, before he grabbed Dumbledore’s robes and pulled the startled wizard into a tight, crushing embrace.  Harry was astounded at how light and frail the old man felt.  His robes had always hid the fact that Dumbledore was very, very old.

Harry’s wives stepped forward as well, one after the other, and the six of them together poured a warm, magical power into the startled headmaster.  When at last the embrace ended and six teary-eyed faces stared at him, Dumbledore straightened and smiled back.  “I haven’t felt this well in many a decade.  Thank you, Harry.  Thank you, dear ladies. Perhaps, if all goes well, I shall see you all again.”

He clutched at Draco’s hand.  “Let’s go, Mr. Malfoy.  We have much work to do.”

\--

\--

Antonin Dolohov stepped through the cabinet with a feral grin on his long, twisted face. “Snape,” he said.  “Where is the boy?”

“Looking for the headmaster,” Snape said with well-practiced arrogance.  “The old fool has taken to wandering the castle at night.”

“And Potter and his whores?”

“Safely tucked into their nice little beds,” Snape sneered.

“They are our second task.”

Snape stared at Dolohov.  “Then you are a fool,” the Potions Master said.  “Potter is not the whelp I picked on last year.   He is the Heir of the Four Founders.  His power approaches that of Dumbledore and the Dark Lord himself.  If you doubt me, ask Rabastan about his beloved Bellatrix. Your primary task is and has always been Dumbledore. Don’t jeopardize your mission by getting yourself killed.”

The old Death Eater sneered with contempt.  “You speak like you’re afraid of a child.”

Snape shrugged.  “I am.  Now let us be about our business.  Who else comes?”

Five other dark wizards emerged from the cabinet and started looking through the halls of the castle.  They heard a boom, and Snape led them in a trot until they reached a set of stairs that would take them to the roof.

Snape pulled his wand, as did Dolohov and his five companions.  They then started climbing until they reached an open door.  Behind it they could hear a gentle voice.  “Mr.Malfoy, you don’t want to do this.”

They then heard the cracking warble of a boy on the verge of manhood.  “How the hell do you know what I want?  I want my father out of Azkaban.  I want all the bloodymudbloods out of this castle.  I want you dead!”

The men arrived on the roof just in time to see Draco throw a cutting curse at the headmaster.  Naturally, a curse thrown by a student had absolutely no chance of actually getting to the headmaster.  Dumbledore easily tossed the curse aside.

“This is your chance, Snape,” Dolohov hissed.  “Prove you are not the traitor our master suspects.”

“I do not need you to tell me what to do,” Snape said. He brandished his wand and waited.

Dumbledore by then had easily bound Malfoy in chains.  Without stepping fully out from the alcove of the stairs, Snape whispered, “Expelliarmus!”

Dumbledore never even saw the spell coming.  His wand flew out of his hands right into the waiting fingers of Severus Snape. 

Snape, Dolohov and the rest of the Death Eaters stepped openly onto the roof of the castle before Dumbledore and the bound Malfoy.  “Severus?” Dumbledore said.  “I don’t understand…”

“Of course you don’t, you bumbling old fool!” Severus hissed.  “For fifteen years I have been playing the part of the faithful servant.  Teaching those pathetic, sniveling brats.Making stupid, doddering old fools believe I am something other than what I am.  No more.  It ends tonight.”

“Severus, surely you don’t mean this…”

“Enough!” Snape hissed.  “ _Avada Kedavra_!”

“Professor!” Harry said as he burst onto the roof from another door.  His shout had the effect of pulling the attention of the Death Eaters away from curse.  They never saw Dumbledore turn away from the curse as it passed just inches from his face.

The distraction was only momentary, but it was enough.  “Arrgh!” Dumbledore cried with perhaps a little more drama than was strictly necessary.  He spun to the ramparts of the castle and threw his hands up. 

Harry stiffened.  “Professor, no!”

Everyone watched, even the Death Eaters, as the professor toppled over the turrets. 

Harry disappeared with a loud, angry pop.  The Death Eaters rushed to the parapet and stared down the long wall to the ground below.  Even though they came with a specific goal in mind, as they stared down at the base of the castle wall where Harry Potter was cradling the limp body, even the Death Eaters had a hard time believing they had done it.

Harry looked up from the body of his mentor.  “Snape, you traitor!” His voice reverberated not just through the castle, but through the valley itself.  Magic flared through the air like a shockwave.

“We must go now!” Snape declared.

“I can’t believe you’re afraid of a mere boy!”

Snape ignored the elder Death Eater.  He spun, released Draco from his bonds.  “Come, Draco!” the Potions Master yelled.  He clutched the Headmaster’s wand in his hand as he ran. 

Dolohov snorted and turned to his five other companions.  “The Dark Lord does not favor cowards for long.”

The others laughed in agreement, until the laughter faded and their eyes locked on a point over Dolohov’s shoulders.  The old wizard spun around, his wand ready, and felt his jaw drop.

Harry Potter floated in the air just off the parapet of the castle, surrounded in a nimbus of red magic.  His eyes flared with an elemental fire.  “You!” the young wizard snarled.  “I remember you.  You cursed my wife.”

“Which one?” Dolohov asked.  He asked out of general curiosity, since if the papers were right Potter ended up marrying all three of the young witches who accompanied him. 

“I doesn’t even matter,” Harry said as he raised his wand.  “Any one of them is worth more than all of Riddle’s servants together.”

Dolohov did not rise to his position within Voldemort’s inner circle through complacency.  He struck first, launching a scathing dark curse at the supposed Leader of the Light.

Harry did not attempt to even dodge it.  He caught the curse on a brilliant golden shield and somehow threw it right back.  Dolohov dodged out of the way and watched with some humor as the curse struck one of his men—a new recruit to the cause.

The man made a gurgling cry before he fell gasping to the ground.

“My turn,” Harry said.  “You like cursing old men off towers, Dolohov?  Why don’t you try it?”

Dolohov made an abortive cry as he flew into the air over the castle roof.  “This is my castle,” Harry snarled.  “My home.  I am the Heir of the Four Founders, and invaders will never be tolerated!”

Dolohov shot even further into the air.  “Let me down you whelp!”

“If you insist.”

Dolohov’s abortive scream turned into a full throated cry of terror as he suddenly started spinning around and around as if he were on a giant Ferris Wheel, until he was released near the bottom of the tenth rotation. 

Dolohov did not fall at terminal velocity.  He shot down like a bullet at almost two hundred miles an hour.  He landed on the rocks at the base of the tower with a wet thunk and a spray of blood.

The other Death Eaters were backing away as Potter alit softly to the roof of the castle.  Harry raised his wand and a stream of fire no more than an inch in diameter shot out likemuggle laser and literally cut one of the Death Eaters in half.

The others stared in horror for a split second before they turned on their heels and ran for all they were worth toward the vanishing cabinets where Malfoy and Snape had gone. Harry followed after, throwing curses and hexes at them as they went.

Two more men fell to Harry’s curses before they reached the Slytherin dorms.  The vanishing cabinet stood open and inviting.  The two surviving Death Eaters literally dove in head first just on the cusp of a fire spell that demolished the cabinet to nothing more than wooden shards. 

Once there was no possibility of being seen, Harry took a deep breath and bent over his knees.  A few moments later, Dumbledore strolled in, perfectly well.  “I shall miss that old wand,” the headmaster said.  “It has been my companion for these many long years.”

“I killed those men,” Harry said.  “The other Death Eaters I killed because they were a threat.  But Dolohov—Headmaster, I wanted to scare him and make him suffer.  I wanted to hurt him.  How can I be any better than them if I do things like that?”

Dumbledore took a most unusual approach to the young man’s distress.  He stepped forward, took Harry’s shoulders in his hands, and pulled the young wizard into a hug.  “Your anger was righteous, Harry.  Dolohov was a truly vile person, one even I would have a hard time defending.  Given he has already escaped once from Azkaban, it is almost certain he would do so again.  Now, he can no longer be a threat.  Whatever you felt when you killed him, know that his death was inevitable.”

The headmaster looked around the dorm.  “Let’s return you to your family, Harry, and let Minister Bones know what has happened.”

Harry nodded mutely. 

 

 

 


	27. In Which Our Heroes Engage A Daring Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yep.

Voldemort sat in a padded chair in his father’s home in Little Haggleton.  The house had been thoroughly redone by his servants, turning it into a virtual palace while removing any trace of the muggles who once lived there.  With the supposed defection of Malfoy’s whore of a wife, his first choice of headquarters was no longer available.

However, under both a Fidelius and unplottable charm, he had no doubt that his new headquarters was perfectly safe.  It was with a sense of comfort and safety that he leaned back and stared at his servants. 

Severus Snape was on his knees, head down.  Beside him Draco Malfoy laid completely prostrate on the floor.  The two other survivors of the night’s work were also prostrate. “And Dolohov?” Snape said.

“Most likely dead, master,” Snape said.  “He dismissed my warnings on Potter.”

“He did, did he?” Voldemort said.  “And do you fear Potter, Severus?”

“I do, Master.”

“More than me, Severus?”

“Never, Master.  Potter would just kill me.”

“It is good that you are aware of that, Severus.  Where is the wand?”

Severus held it up without looking from the floor.  “Your plan worked as you hoped, Master.  Young Malfoy presented enough of a distraction for me to both disarm and kill Dumbledore.  But Potter arrived just as I killed the headmaster.”

“And he did not kill you?”

“My mission was to get this wand to you, Master.  If I tarried to fight Potter, I risked failing you.”

“Indeed.”  Voldemort stood sinuously from his seat.  “Expelliarmus!”  The Dark Lord spoke the hex with a casual drawl.  Even with the lazy flick of his wand, the power of it sent Snape careening into a far wall, while the Elder Wand flew into his waiting hand.

The Dark Lord smiled down at the legendary wand.  “Well, well, let us see how it works.”  He pointed it down at Draco.  “What do you think, young Mr. Malfoy? Shall we try it on you?”

Draco fought to keep the terror out of his voice.  “I live to serve you, Master.”

“For now, perhaps.”  He turned to Snape.  “Perhaps…yes, I know.   _Diffindo_!”

Snape closed his eyes, waiting for the curse that would most certainly end his life.  Instead of a sharp pain, he heard a gasp and a thud.  He opened his eyes and looked with thinly-disguised horror at the head of one of the other two survivors.  The body had crumpled beside it.

“Excellent!” Voldemort said.  “Excellent.  Spread the word, Severus.  You have proven yourself this day.  You shall keep your place at my side.  And your first task is to gather all my servants.  The time for complacency is past.  Whatever advantage Potter hoped to have with our brother wands has passed.  Within the week, Potter and his whores will die!”

An hour later, after hearing the detailed plans the Dark Lord made, Snape and Draco left the manor house.  They walked along a narrow path beside a poorly-kept graveyard that still occasionally haunted Harry Potter’s dreams, to the edge of the anti-apparation wards.

As soon as they were far enough away to be out of sight of their master’s house, Draco Malfoy fell to his knees and vomited.  “Are you done?” Snape asked when the vomiting turned to dry gags.  He had witnessed horrors many times worse than just a man losing his head.

“Almost,” Draco groaned, before heaving once more.  He staggered back to his feet, pale.  “Can we really do this?”

“Do we have a choice?” Snape said.  “I must gather the Dark Lord’s forces.  You must get word to Potter.”

“How?”

“Do you know the patronus charm?”

Malfoy shook his head.  “Didn’t have a strong enough happy memory.”

“You’re a Malfoy, of course you don’t have any happy memories.” Snape sighed.  “You know where I live.  Go there.  You know how to apparate now.  Use the floo.  The Dark Lord expects you to infiltrate the castle again anyway.  This will be your opportunity.”

“And you?”

“As I’ve said, I must gather the Dark Lord’s forces, such as they are.”

“What do you mean?”

Snape shrugged.  Without any sign of outward humor or satisfaction, he said, “Someone sent a list of all the safehouses to the muggle authorities.  Evidently Minister Bones has strengthened communication between the Ministry and the muggle Prime Minister.  It will be interesting to see how many safe houses are left.”

“When did this happen?”

“It happened ten minutes from now.”

Draco nodded.  “I see.”

“Go now.”

“Will I see you again?”

Snape shrugged.  “Perhaps.”  With that, the potions master dis-apparated.  Draco followed a moment later with a loud pop to mark his relative inexperience. 

A moment later, Severus Snape appeared in Kingsley Shacklebolt’s office at Number 10 Downing Street.  The head auror had built a complex web of wards that summoned anyone attempting to enter the Prime Minister’s office directly to his small office space.  When Shacklebolt saw Severus, he jumped to his feet with his wand out.

“Password!”

“Snivellous,” Snape snarled.  He did not care for the password at all.  “I must be quick.  Here is a copy of the list.  I will contact the house at the top of the list first.  I would recommend your muggle friends start with the house on the bottom.  These are marked Death Eaters, Shacklebolt.  You know what that means.”

“They’ve killed.”

“Tell the muggles that.  If one of these men pulls a wand, the muggle aurors will die.”

“I will.  I know we never saw eye-to-eye, Severus, but I just wanted to say good luck.  You are one brave bastard.”

“No, Shacklebolt, I am simply a bastard, with much to atone for.  Now be gone.”

Severus disappeared through the allowed apparition channel and Kingsly ran next door to alert the Prime Minister of what was happening.  Minister Bryant was in a budget meeting when the large man, now dressed in a stylish Armani suit, stepped in.  “I’m sorry to bother you, Prime Minister, but urgent information has come through.”

“Of course.  Ladies and gentlemen, if you would kindly excuse me?”

As Snape apparated to the first hideout to begin gathering Death Eaters, the Prime Minister made a call to the Director General of MI5 as his executive assistant faxed over the list of sites.  The list was quickly scanned and sent out to quick-reaction teams assembled from a joint MI5 and MI6 taskforce for this very purpose.

By the time Snape was on his third house, the bottom ten safehouses were quietly surrounded by muggles in full body armor, riot helmets, assault rifles and flash-bang grenades. The first house they entered housed ten Death Eaters. 

One of the dark wizards pulled a wand and dis-apparated.  Before the remaining wizards had a chance to do likewise, the agents executed their standing orders by executing the wizards.  The Death Eaters fell to the ground.  Those that did not die immediately were stunned that mere muggles could cause them harm.

The second raid encountered much stiffer resistance as they crashed a hideout with nearly twenty Death Eaters.  As the first four wizards fell, the remaining sixteen brandished their wands with terrible effect.  Of the twenty men in the quick response team, only twelve survived.  However, ten of the Death Eaters died before the others escaped..

So the story went from hideout to hideout.  Some wizards never had a chance to fight.  A few of the newer ones actually surrendered and were disarmed.  Most, however, brandished their wands and demonstrated why wizards were such a threat to muggles.

Shacklebolt was with the Prime Minister, acting the liaison, when the casualties began pouring in.  “My God,” Bryan whispered, appalled.  “We’re losing a man to every two of theirs, and we have the element of surprise!”

Shacklebolt nodded somberly.  “Magic can be dangerous, Mr. Prime Minister,” he said.  “Most especially in the hands of men without morals.  Perhaps we have done enough for now.  Your people have shed enough blood fighting our battles.”

Bryant agreed.  “We killed a hundred of them, but lost over fifty men.”

“But one hundred Death Eaters marks nearly a fifth of the Dark Lord’s total forces,” Shacklebolt said.  “That is significant.  And in all likelihood some of those men were responsible for the attacks on your people.”

“But fifty agents….”

Shacklebolt understood.  “Amelia authorized me to mention a special pension we would like to fund for the families of your people killed.  We cannot tell you how much we value the cooperation your government has provided.”

Bryant nodded—that sounded exactly like something the charming witch would say. 

Snape, meanwhile, stood in the shadows of a dirty alley surrounded by five brash young Death Eaters while they watched muggle authorities cart out the bodies of their fellows.

“Should kill ‘em all,” one of the young men said.

“Perhaps you will in time, but not now,” Snape said.  “We’ve lost a hundred brothers today.  Any more fighting the muggles, and the Dark Lord will have our heads.  It’s bad enough as is.  Now, let us go!”

With that, Snape and the last of the Death Eaters to be summoned dis-apparated away.

 --

\--

Draco stumbled from the fireplace, shivering with cold.  It was just a few days after Boxing Day, and the term was officially supposed to begin in less than a week.  Somehow, though, Draco doubted things would be the same again.

Snape assured him that Dumbledore was still alive, but he just couldn’t be sure.  He saw the killing curse flying, and saw Dumbledore fall over the parapet of the castle.  How could even Dumbledore have survived that?

As he stood, he heard the paintings of all the former headmasters demanding to know what he was doing.  And then one more familiar voice asked the same.

Draco spun around, wand in hand, and gaped.  “You’re alive,” he whispered.

Albus Dumbledore beheld Malfoy and nodded gravely.  “I am indeed, though none must know.”

Draco was well aware of Voldemort’s legillimancy, which is why he and his godfather had been practicing occlumency since he was a third year.  It was one of the few defensive areas in which he clearly outclassed Potter.

“The attack is going to be tomorrow during your memorial,” Draco said.  “Professor Snape was sent to gather the whole army.”

Dumbledore nodded.  “As we suspected.  The memorial will be too big of a target for Tom to let pass.”

“There’s more,” Malfoy said.  “He gave my godfather and I another mission.  But…I’m not sure I can do it.”

“Tell me, Mr. Malfoy.  Tell me everything.”

\--

\--

The Great Hall was draped in banners of black the next day.  The four house tables had been removed and the floor was lined in row after row of cushioned pews.  The staff table was gone as well, replaced by a bier, upon which rested the body of Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore. 

Or, as it happened, a bowl of lemondrops perfectly transfigured into the form of Dumbledore.

The professor himself was in the polyjuiced form of his brother Aberforth, who was in Spain at the moment enjoying a well-earned vacation from his inn.  The headmaster took a perverse pleasure in telling everyone how Albus was always the smarter, better looking of the two brothers.

Harry had to fight to keep a grin off his face.  The fact Dumbledore was able to tell people Albus was the better looking brother with an actual tear in his eye just made the whole situation that much harder to bear.

The room was filled with the most important people in wizarding Britain, with several dignitaries from the International Confederation of Wizards as well.  Minister Bones sat in the front pew right across an isle from the pew Harry and his wives occupied with the Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout and Hagrid.  “Aberforth” stood near the head of the room, receiving condolences still. 

“I think he’s enjoying himself,” Daphne muttered under her breath.

“I used to dream I died when I was younger,” Luna said.  She pouted.  “Sadly, no one came to my funeral except a pair of woodchucks and one nargle.”

Harry and the other wives stared at her a moment.  “Good thing you’re going to live two hundred years, then,” he told her.  “And when the time comes, half the world will know your name and cry for you.”

“That’s sweet,” Luna said.

“It’s stupid,” Daphne muttered.  “If and when I die, I want a small, simple ceremony with family only.  I’ve never liked the idea of hordes of people weeping over my dead body.”

Harry nodded.

“What about you, Harry?” Hermione said.

He shrugged.  “I just want people to know I was here,” he said.  “That I tried my best.”

That got a few “awws” from the girls, though Luna suddenly chuckled.  “I don’t know, Harry.  Personally I think you’ll live forever.”

He shuddered.  “Not without you all, I hope.”

Of course, they all knew the reason for the huge, lavish ceremony.  It was a trap.  Within this castle was every possible target Voldemort could desire.  A quarter of the ministry’sauror force was there, along with the minister and most of the senior department heads.  In additional, almost the whole of the Wizengamut was there to pay homage to the greatest wizard of his age.

Even if they had not received intelligence from Draco, Harry would have known from the pain in his scar that an attack was imminent. 

Finally friends began speaking about Dumbledore, giving eulogies and fond remembrances.  Mathilda Bagshot, moving at the pace of a glacier, spoke about him as a boy, while his old friend Elphias Doge rambled on and on for the better part of an hour. 

The whole time, Harry found himself fidgeting nervously with his wand.  The pressure in the air seemed palpable to him, though no one other than his wives seemed to notice. And even then, he suspected they only noticed because of the bond they all shared.  He was literally making them nervous with his own nervousness.

Suddenly he felt a sharp pain through his scar, followed almost immediately by a tingling in the back of his mind.   _It has begun, my beloved,_  the voice of Hogwarts rang in his mind.   _The barbarians are at the gates._

His wives sensed the change in him.  Even if they hadn’t seen him straighten in his pew and set his chin, they would have felt it through the magic that all of them shared. Wordlessly, Hermione took his hand; while down the line each of the other girls took each others’.  Harry could feel their love and strength flowing through them. 

“It’s time,” he whispered aloud.  He squeezed Hermione’s hand then stood and left the pew.  He moved with his head ducked down to stay out of the line of sight of the many guests of the funeral, until he reached the side aisle.  From there he walked quickly toward the back, forcing his way through the standing-room only crowd.  Finally, he reached Gawain Robards.  The head auror watched Harry coming with a pensive expression. 

Harry did not speak.  Rather, he merely nodded.

That’s when the wards around Hogwarts bowed before the magical assault.  Harry knew that with him as the anchor, the wards could hold off any attack for hours, but if he did that, then all of their planning would have been for naught.  So, with an apprehensive glance at Robards, he asked Hogwarts to drop the wards, and she complied.

Moments later, a young auror tore through the crowds with a terrified expression.  “The castle is under attack!  The Dark Lord has a whole army!” the man cried.

“Damn it!” Robards said.  Panic was the last thing any of them wanted.  “Aurors!” he roared.  “Form up around the main entrance.  Any able bodied wizard is encouraged to assist.  The use of the Killing Curse is hereby authorized on my authority!”

Amelia Bones was no slouch.  She put her wand to her throat as she summoned the sonorous charm.  “I confirm Head Auror’s orders.  The use of the killing curse is authorized. All able-bodied wizards and witches are encouraged to assist in the defense of the castle.  Anyone infirm or underage is to report to the castle staff immediately.  Move!”

In the front pew, the wives stood up to go to their pre-decided waiting spot when Harry ran up to them with Shacklebolt on his heels.  “It’s time to go.  All of you, head out. Hermione, I need you for a second.”

The five women stood and stared.  Harry stared right back, though they could see a tremor in his hand and a bead of sweat on his brow.

Hermione’s eyes widened and her lips formed an “Oh”.  Behind her, hands touched her back. 

“It’s time to go,” Harry said urgently.  “We have to hurry.”

“Okay,” Hermione said weakly.

Harry grabbed her arm, harder than he would ever have done so normally, and Shacklebolt grabbed the other.  A heartbeat later, the three of them disappeared with the silence of a portkey.

The four remaining wives stared at the spot where they stood.  “I can’t believe we just let that happen,” Susan said.

Just then Harry returned.  “Where’s…”  his voice stopped as he saw their expressions.  “So it was Hermione?”

The girls nodded.

Harry swayed for a moment before going down on one knee.  Instantly Ginny was there, with Susan, Luna and Daphne right behind, all of them hugging each other as the impact of all their planning finally struck.  
  
Hermione was gone.

Around them, Minister Bones had organized a defense of the castle against the impending attack.  Her voice rang out with clear leadership and authority.  Those too weak, young or unwilling to fight were evacuated to other parts of the castle, or were taken by portkey from the castle grounds themselves.  After all, the wards were down.

The five of them stood and walked with all the other people out of the great hall and into the main thoroughfare of the castle.

\--

\--

A ring of a hundred aurors fought back the wave of dark creatures that crashed against the entrance of the castle.  On the edge of the forbidden forest, Voldemort watched in pleasure.  He could already see a handful of aurors on the ground.  He had lost a troll and a dozen werewolves and vampires charmed against the sun, but his core forces had not even engaged the enemy yet.  Which, he admitted only to himself, was just as well after losing a fifth of them to the muggles.  He vowed that when the Ministry was his, he would kill every official in the muggle government.

From the midst of the battle trudged two familiar figures, with a third hovering behind them.  Already the polyjuice was wearing off, revealing Draco and Snape.  The figure behind them was also familiar.

Draco gently lowered the mudblood to the grass before falling to his knees.  “Lord, the mudblood, as you ordered.”

“At last you accomplish something, Draco,” Voldemort hissed.  “Perhaps you will survive the day after all.”

Hermione sat up in the grass, her eyes wide and her lip trembling.  She looked upon the face of evil, and fought back the bile in her throat.  “You’ve made a terrible mistake,Voldemort,” she said.

The Dark Lord laughed.  “Have I?  Do you expect me to bow and let the great Lady Gryffindor go?  As if a filthy mudblood were worthy to carry such an esteemed title?  Do you think you’ll live to see another sunset, child?”

“Do you think the Heir of the Four Founders will let you harm one of his wives and live?” Hermione snapped back, feigning far more courage than she felt.  “He’ll kill you for this.”

“I think not.   _Crucio!_ ”

Hermione screamed.

In the castle, Harry and his wives stopped in the middle of a hall where they had been running to join the defenders, and fell to the ground screaming in agony.  “Aberforth” was there almost immediately, with Minister Bones and Professor McGonagall a step behind.

“Harry, what is it?” Dumbledore said.

“Hermione,” Harry gasped.  “She’s being tortured.”

Suddenly a voice reverberated through the whole castle.  “Harry Potter!  I have your mudblood whore, Potter.  Can you feel her screaming?  I shall rip the fetus from her womb and feed it to her, boy.  Unless you come to me.  Come to me, and face your destiny!  You have five minutes before your precious mudblood begins losing herself.”

“Harry, you can’t…” Ginny began.

Harry stopped her with a kiss.  He stepped back, tears in his eyes, and looked at all of them.  “This was our plan all along.  Voldemort has the Elder Wand, but I am its master.  It cannot harm me.”

“But there are other wands there,” Daphne pointed out.

“And Hermione’s there as well.”  He looked at all of them, slowly.  “I would do this for any of you,” he said.  “I love you.  I have to do this, and I have to go alone.”

Ginny threw her arms around his neck, covering his face in teary kisses.  Luna too hugged and kissed him, her eyes moist with unshed tears.  Susan was bawling unabashedly, while like Luna Daphne’s eyes glistened with tears she refused to let fall. 

“We love you, Harry,” the Slytherin princess said.  “Don’t forget that.”

“How could I?” Harry smiled at them all as his own cheeks grew wet.  He turned finally to Dumbledore.  “Protect them.”

“With my life,” Dumbledore said.  “And if necessary, my death.”

Harry nodded and turned toward the door.  Everyone in the castle had heard, and he became intensely aware of hundreds of eyes staring at him.  Some, students and friends, even looked as if they were weeping.

Without another word, Harry started walking.  The whole world seemed to distort into a tunnel before his eyes.  He never felt the hands of the witches and wizards that reached out just to touch him, however fleetingly.  He walked by Robards without even seeing the auror.  Past Tonks and Mad-Eye Moody.  Past Remus Lupin, Minerva McGonagall,Filius Flitwick and Pamona Sprout.  Poppy Pomphrey had tears in her eyes.  Molly Weasley was bawling and reaching for Harry, even while Mr. Weasley held her back. 

Then he was out of the main door.  All fighting had stopped.  The ground was littered with the dead—primarily Voldemort’s monsters, though Harry knew many aurors had already fallen.  He walked directly toward the trolls and giants, toward the potioned werewolves and charmed vampires, who stepped side with growls and sneers.  He walked with his head held high, his shoulders back, and his chin set.  He walked like a man toward his destiny, and did not falter.

 

 


	28. In Which Our Hero Dreams A Dark Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, life a thousand years ago still sucked.

The snowy field looked trampled and dirty.  As Harry walked across the castle grounds to the dark army that awaited him, he suddenly had a flashback to another time, centuries ago.  To a man who walked across a similar field toward a small wooden home.  The memory ensnared his mind while his feet carried him forward.

In his memory he had been working with the local lord in the nearest valley in the Pyrenees when word came of the attack.  A mixed force of Frankish and Asturian soldiers clashed with soldiers of the accursed Moor, Abd-Al-Rahman of Cordoba. 

He had ridden his horse to death through the mountain snow until he came to the edge of his hereditary lands.  He saw the tendril of smoke from his home, too thick to have come just from their cooking fire.

His feet were numb as he pushed through the snow.  He came across another trail beaten in the drifts, dirty from the passage of animals and men.  He moved into the path and continued walking.  He could no longer run—his legs would not permit it.  Rather, he moved as if in a daze.  His home was partially burned, but the fire never spread due to the snow on the now collapsed roof. 

He arrived at the threshold.  There he saw the pommel of a broken sword—it was not a Moorish scimitar, but the broken iron of a Frankish knight.

Then he saw her.  Young and beautiful, flush with life and new motherhood.  Narrow cheeks and large, black eyes that could express an epic with a mere look.  She was mixed, of Moorish and Basque descent.  Her skin was dark and beautiful as only a woman of high Berber birth could ever be.  She was the most beautiful creature he had ever known, and the only woman he had ever loved.

She lay in the middle of the floor, her eyes closed as if in gentle sleep.  His eyes focused on her face, unwilling to travel down.  But eventually, his body betrayed him, and his eyes moved down from her long, shapely neck, to the bruised and bloodied breasts that just that morning had fed their son.  Down to the blood-soaked skin of her stomach, to the bloodied, dashed chaos that had once been her womanhood.

Something powerful hit him.  He fell to his knees, breathless.  There were no tears.  There were no loud exclamations of pain or grief.  He simply fell to his knees.  His eyes continued to betray him as they travelled from Celeste to the shape that had once been a son.  His body was terribly bruised, naked under the exposed snow from the broken roof. The child’s head was squashed like a melon.  He could see the shape of a heel directly in front of the crushed face, where the boot had slammed down on the head of his only son.

Something broke.  He never knew what it was.  He was not even aware of it when his soul shattered.  He should have cried and mourned.  By mourning, he could maybe have moved on one day.  But as he knelt down staring at the violated form of his wife, and the broken body of his son, he knew deep down that he would never move on.  That even if he married and had children again, there would never be love in his life.  There was no room for it because of the hate that was born on that day.  His soul broke beyond repair as he stared at the future that should have been, but now would never be.

On that day, the father and husband died, and the Salazar Slytherin of history was born.

\--

\--

Harry blinked.  He stood on the edge of the forest, faced by an army of his enemies.  There was the Dark Lord himself, grinning wickedly.  Just behind the Dark Lord stood Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape supporting Hermione between them. 

“Did you honestly think I would let any of you live, you foolish boy?” Voldemort was saying.

Harry shook his head.  His eyes sought out Hermione, pale and weakened.  There was a pain in her eyes far worse than anything the cruciatus curse could have inflicted.  It was a pain of knowledge, a terrible knowledge.

His eyes travelled down from hers, until he looked at her stomach and legs.  Her robes did nothing to hide the stain of fresh blood that ran down her pants leg. 

He saw Slytherin’s first born in his mind, and understood why he had the vision.  His stomach clenched like a fist.

Voldemort laughed.  “You see now, don’t you, Harry?” the Dark Lord hissed.  “There will be no Heir of Gryffindor.  No seed of a Founder should be born from the womb of a filthy mudblood whore.”

Harry wasn’t even looking at Voldemort.  He was looking at Draco.  The Slytherin stared right back with a tear in his eyes, even as he gently cradled Hermione.  On the other side of her, Snape merely nodded.

Harry turned back to Voldemort.  He held up his hand, with his wedding ring, and pushed the red crystal. Though Voldemort had put anti-apparition and anti-portkey wards around his army, Harry was now within the confines of those wards.

Hermione left the arms of her captives and appeared a split second later in Harry’s arms.  Voldemort and the army surged forward, but Harry merely held out his wand.  “Let her go,” he said, “and I will surrender my wand.”

Voldemort reared back as if slapped.  “Foolish boy, do you think I would believe you for even a second…”

“I will give you my oath,” Harry said.  “So long as you do the same.  Let her walk back to the castle unharmed, let her enter and join my family, and I will surrender my wand to you.   Otherwise, I will use every ounce of the power I have as the Heir not only to destroy you, but all those who follow you.  Give me this one boon, Tom, and I will let you fulfill the prophecy with my death.”

“It is a foolish thing you offer, Harry.”

“I would die for her, Tom, because I love her.”

Smirking, Voldemort placed the wand to his chest.  “I, Lord Voldemort, hereby swear on my magic that I and mine shall permit the mudblood Granger to return to the castle unharmed, if Harry Potter surrenders his wand to me.”

Harry clutched Hermione tight.  She looked up at him with agony in her eyes.  “I’m sorry, Harry,” she sobbed.

“Don’t ever be sorry,” he whispered.  “I’m not.  I got to love the most brilliant witch of her age, and I would never give that memory up.”  He leaned down to kiss her, and poured into her the whole of his magic.  The golden glow of it was visible to all around.

Voldemort snarled in rage as he saw Hermione straighten with new strength.  He made the vow he did in the belief she would never even make it to the castle.  But as she and Potter’s lips parted, she stood whole and as healthy as if she had not just miscarried due to the cruciatus curse and torture.

Harry turned back to Voldemort.  “I, Harry James Potter, heir by blood and magic of the Four Founders of Hogwarts, hereby swear on my magic that I shall surrender myself and my wand to Lord Voldemort, provided the safe passage of my beloved wife Hermione back to Hogwarts castle.”

The magic of the oath whipped around them both.  Harry squeezed Hermione’s hand.  “Run as fast as you can,” he whispered to her.  “And remember I will always love you.”

“And I will always love you,” Hermione said.  She turned and ran, buoyed by the magic he gave her.  Harry did not watch her run—he could feel her spark with his magic as she crossed the fields.  Voldemort and the rest of his army watched with interest, until at last Hermione disappeared into the ranks of the defenders.

His red eyes turned back to Harry.  “It is time,” he hissed with glee.

“It is,” Harry agreed.  He threw his wand into the snow at Voldemort’s feet.

\--

\--

Hermione collapsed just inside the door, only to be met by four pairs of hands.  Arms gently lifted her, while voices comforted her even amidst their crying.  The brave front she wore for the man she loved cracked before her sisters, and she wept bitter, angry tears. 

The worst part of it all was that they knew it would happen.  They knew that Voldemort would come after at least one of them, and they knew Hermione was the likeliest target as a muggle-born.  But even she could not have foreseen Voldemort using the cruciatus on her while pregnant.  Could not imagine the other Death Eaters laughing as they kicked her stomach until she could feel the life within her die.

And worse yet was the look in Harry’s eyes when he saw the blood on her legs and realized what had happened.  She hoped for anger or betrayal.  That she could have handled.

Instead all she saw was guilt.  Harry blamed himself, like he always did.

Pomphrey was there, trying to scan her, but she shook her head violently. “We’ve got to go,” she told the other girls.

They nodded and formed a ring around her to ward off the crowd of sympathizes.  Finally, they broke through and made their way through the castle until they reached the third floor.  The door of the Room of Requirement opened the moment they arrived, and within Hogwarts waited.  “Come, my sisters,” the castle beckoned.  “The time approaches. We must move quickly.”

\--

\--

Harry could not cry any more.  His tongue was gone, lying on the bloody snow a few feet away, with two of his fingers and his left ear.

Voldemort was not just using the cruciatus.  Evidently August Rookwood was an adept with a knife as well.   Harry tried holding his cries at first, but when Rookwood started cutting in between bouts of the pain curse, there was no way to keep silent.  But now his cries were wordless groans.

Voldemort laughed and pointed at him.  “This is the great and powerful Heir?  This helpless, foolish little boy?”

Rookwood grinned as he knelt down by Harry’s head.  “What beautiful green eyes you have,” the Dark Wizard said.  “Would you mind if I have one?  Or possibly both?”

\--

\--

Snape walked through the camp, ignoring the raucous cries of the Dark Lord and his servants.  He finally arrived at the wizarding tent Voldemort used himself to coordinate the last moments of the attack.

He stepped through the flap and found Peter Pettigrew sipping from a bottle of firewhiskey before a blazing Franklin stove.  The massive form of Nagini curled up by his feet. “Is he dead yet?” Pettigrew asked.  His voice was flat and emotionless.

“Not yet, but soon,” Snape said.  He kept his own voice emotionless.  “Who ever thought we’d see James Potter’s son turned into a living nightmare.”

Pettigrew shuddered.  “Should be me,” he whispered.

“You’re right,” Snape said.  He raised his wand. 

Pettigrew looked at him, but did not rise or even seem surprised.  In fact, he simply took a very long swig on the bottle.  When he finished swallowing, he said, “Always figured you were the spy.  Who ever thought Snivellus Snape, Slytherin half-blood prince, would serve the side of light?”

“And whoever thought Peter Pettigrew, Gryffindor and Marauder, would serve the bastard son of evil?”

Pettigrew nodded, and silently started weeping.  “I envy you.”

“I wouldn’t.”

Pettigrew nodded.  “I’m ready.”

“ _Avada Kedavra_.”

Snape stared without emotion as Pettigrew collapsed to the floor on top of Nagini.  The ensorcelled snake was intelligent, and knew Snape was not there as its master’s servant. It tried slithering away, but though incredibly fast, a snake that large could not simply disappear.

“ _Avada Kedavra_ ,” Snape said.

The green spell struck the mutated snake in its center, ripping the life from it.  A black cloud formed around it, a cloud of magic most evil, as the horcrux within it died as well.

\--

\--

Voldemort stood before the broken body of Harry Potter.  The boy still lived, but just barely.  He lay face down in the black snow, stripped naked and partially flayed.  One whole leg was gone, the other was skinned up past his thigh.  His testicles and penis were gone, fed to the werewolves.  His stomach was cut open and spilling out his innards.

There was no possibility that the new leader of the light could possibly live.

“Turn him.”

Feet roughly rolled Potter over, spilling more entrails in the process.  Harry’s breath came in a terrible, ragged gasp as empty sockets stared sightlessly at the crystal blue winter sky.

Voldemort knelt down beside him.  He ran a finger across Harry’s bloody chest and licked the blood from the finger.  “Most delicious,” he said.  “You have dodged death for sixteen years, Harry.  Through luck and the guidance of others, you have survived where by all rights you should have died.  But no more.  It ends now.  Do you want me to kill you, Harry?”

“Whaass,” a breathless gasp came.  His tongue was gone—it was the only sound he could make.

Voldemort nodded.  “Then I shall show myself merciful, Harry.  I shall give you release.” He placed the tip of the Elder Wand to Harry’s forehead, and whispered the curse. The flash of green passed directly into Harry’s skull.

As his eyes closed, the famous lightning bolt scar faded from view amidst a puff of black smoke, and Harry Potter, Heir of the Four Founders, lay still. 

Just then Snape walked back into their midst and looked down at the body of Potter.  Voldemort grinned.  “Do you not like what you see, Severus?”

“No more than you will like what you see in your tent, Tom.”

The laughter of the Death Eaters fell completely, utterly still.  Voldemort’s eyes narrowed in rage.  “What are you talking about…”

“Nagini is dead,” Snape said.  “Nagini was your sixth horcrux, Tom.”  He pointed at the broken, dead body between them.  “And Harry was your last.  I wanted you to know that, Tom.  I wanted you to know with my last breath that I have never been your man, and by your own hand you have spelled your own mortality.”

The curse that struck Snape was cast in silent rage.  It was not nearly as gentle as the killing curse.  It was a curse of destruction.  Snape barely had time to scream before the skin was ripped from his body and he went spinning into a nearby tree, where he hung limp and dead.

Voldemort rushed through his followers, who fled before him in terror.  When he saw the inside of his tent, his roar filled the forest.  He turned and stomped away, while behind him his tent blew up in a ball of writhing green fire.

“We take the castle,” he roared.  “We leave no one alive!  Kill them all, and if you find Potter’s wives, bring them to me!”

The army marched on the castle, four hundred death eaters, hundreds of inferi, giants, trolls and all creatures of a dark manner.  And after the last left the forest, a single figure stepped from the trees and knelt down beside the bloodied, broken form of Harry Potter. 

Trembling fingers lifted the eleven and a quarter inch holly wand with a phoenix feather core from the bloody snow where a furious Voldemort had dropped it, and then lifted one of the severed digits as well.  Draco Malfoy looked down at the boy he had hated since he started school, and with a shaking hand wiped his tears away.  “I’m sorry, Harry,” he whispered.

He removed a shrunken broom from his pocket, and in seconds was ripping through the sky as fast as he could.

\--

\--

 “They’re coming!” Robards called.

By this time, Dumbledore allowed the polyjuice to fade, and everyone saw with cries of joy that he was alive.  He merely nodded to them and tried not to think of the boy who had walked alone to the enemy, or to the five young woman mourning his loss.

All time for discussion ended though when the first troll came barreling through the entrance of the castle with its club swinging.  Albus Dumbledore joined with the defenders of the light as he brought his wand to bear and cast the first hex.

\--

\--

Draco came in low over the water, doing his best not to be seen by the other wizards on brooms that patrolled the castle.  Unfortunately, there were simply too many eyes to escape notice, and before he was even half-way to his goal, a pair of wizards came swooping down on his tail.

Unfortunately for them, Draco Malfoy was a seeker.  Not as good as Potter, though he hated to admit it, but good enough to start on the house team.  He was also riding a Nimbus 2001, still one of the fastest brooms made.

He leaned over the broom and willed power into the flying charms.  He surged forward, even while the wizards behind him began lobbing spells.  He made a turn of the rocky shore and saw the first year entrance ahead.  He skimmed just inches from the waves of the lake and prayed that the entrance was open.  It was supposed to be, but plans could go wrong.

He cleared the arch of stone and flew up the stairs.  The doors were open!

With a gasp of relief, Draco tore into the castle.  He heard a creaking of heavy wood as behind him the enchanted doors swung closed.  Moments later he heard two loud thumps as his pursuers hit the barrier.  He didn’t have time to grin as Draco began weaving the halls of the castle on his broom. 

The Weasley twins made flying in the castle look easy at the end of Fifth Year, but Draco found it was much harder than it looked.  Three times he nearly tumbled into a wall. Finally, though, he dodged the worst of the fighting that was raging through the halls until he came to the third floor passage where the room was.

He jumped off his broom and began pacing.  “I need to help Potter,” he said aloud as he paced back and forth three times. The door opened, and he found himself staring at five hastily raised wands.  Draco lifted his hands.  “I’ve got it,” he said.

Hermione stepped forward, and Draco felt his throat close.  He managed to gasp out, just barely, the words, “I’m sorry.”

She stared at him with brilliant, cold brown eyes.  “Where’s Harry?”

Draco shook his head and gave her the wand and the severed finger.  Behind her, the other girls’ eyes widened in horror.

“The Elder Wand wasn’t supposed to be able to kill him,” Hermione said.  She spoke factually, as if the idea of Harry’s death were a fact already disproven by theory.

Draco shook his head.  “He was dead before the Dark Lord even cast the killing curse,” Draco said.  “But…Snape killed Nagini, then he told the Dark Lord off.  He’s dead too.”

Hermione’s shoulders slumped.  “You’re not lying, are you?” she whispered.

Draco shook his head.  “I’ve been a prat and a bastard, but what they did to him…gods, Hermione.  All of you.  I’m so sorry. I couldn’t stop them.  I couldn’t…”

Then someone new was there.  She stood taller than the other girls, with auburn hair and glowing brown eyes.  She was beautiful and ripe and everything Draco had ever thought a real woman was supposed to be.  She stood resplendent in staff robes and looked down on him with a kind-hearted smile.  “Are you truly sorry, Draco Malfoy?  Do you regret your actions sufficiently to make penance?”

Draco looked at the girls behind the woman, who were watching him with silent, grief-stricken faces.  “I…I…yes.  I guess I am.”

“Even if that penance was death?”

 _I would die for her_ , Potter had said.

Snape died for him, Draco.  His mother threw her home and her family away to save him.  Harry gave him hope even when he did not deserve even that much.  Draco was shocked, truly shocked, when he realized his answer was:  “Yes.”

“Then join us.”

He stepped into the room and the doors closed behind him.

 


	29. In Which Hogwarts Does Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Battle is a lucky, lucky man.

“You look like shit, Harry.”

Harry turned and smiled at Sirius, then returned his attention to the mangled piece of meat that used to be his body.  “I can’t even recognize me,” he said.

“Yeah, they did a number.  Makes falling through the Veil seem kind of nice, doesn’t it?”

“So I’m dead?” Harry asked.

“Mostly.  This is exactly what Tom experienced after you blasted him out of his body the first time.”

Harry didn’t say anything at first. “I really missed you.”

“I wish I could say the same, Pup, but truth is I’ve been with you this entire time.  I was there with you and that little Ravenclaw of yours.  What is it she said? That you’d see me again?”

The two turned away from the mangled mess that was once Harry Potter and started walking toward the castle.  Soon enough they started encountering the first bodies.  The first was actually a blackened hole in the snow was once a vampire, burned into dust.  There was a troll, felled before it even reached the castle.  Acromantulas still twitched, while werewolves in various states of change littered the snow.

Then they saw their first auror; the crimson robes in part hid the blood.  Then another and another.  There were fallen dark wizards and monsters mixed in with the fallen heroes. 

“So many bodies,” Harry whispered.  He felt detached from the horror—even more, though, he felt a deep and terrible sadness.  “I wonder how many new ghosts Hogwarts will have after today.”

“Perhaps not as many as you think,” Sirius said.  “Wizards choose to become ghosts because they have unfinished business.  These men and women are fighting for the light. They died good deaths.”

They passed through the entrance, moving between and sometimes even through the combatants.  Harry saw Aurors and Death Eaters fighting desperately.  He saw plain civilians holding back trolls and acromantulas. 

He saw Molly Weasley screaming like a banshee while she and Arthur struck a Death Eater down.

Harry stopped and he felt Sirius pause beside him as the two looked down at the floor.

Bill Weasley was dead.  His broken body lay before them, while over him a ball of fury attacked anyone who moved too close.  Fleur Delacouer poured not just her witch’s magic, but her Veela’s fire into her rage, and around her four Death Eaters and one werewolf lay as mute, dead testament to her rage.

“I always liked Bill,” Harry said.  “And I liked Fleur as well.  She looks so heartbroken.”

Indeed, the French witch was weeping even as she screamed out spells and shot fire around her.

“He was a good man,” Sirius agreed.  “They were all good people.”  To prove his point he lifted his arm and pointed down the hall, where Harry saw Kingsly Shacklebolt, Gawain Robards, Rufus Scrimgeour and Amelia Bones herself fighting tenaciously against a larger force of dark wizards and an enraged giant.  Most of their fellow aurors had fallen in the attack. 

Kingsley must have apparated in during the battle, Harry thought.

Suddenly fiendfyre ripped through the hall, striking the giant repeatedly until it fell dead and charred over the confused dark wizards. 

Albus Dumbledore, his beard scorched, his clothes torn, and his eyes glittering with power, strode through the hall accompanied by the rest of the staff and what remained of the Order of the Phoenix.  “Amelia, get out of here!” Dumbledore cried.  “The ministry must survive!”

“The ministry won’t survive without the workers who run it,” Amelia shouted back.  “I’m staying.  Where’s my niece?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where’s Harry?”

“Harry’s hamburger,” Sirius said, though none could hear but Harry himself.  He couldn’t help but snicker at his dead godfather’s joke.

Dumbledore looked out past Fleur.  Pockets of wizards dueled each other across the space in a crazy, chaotic swirl of deadly magic.  “I think…he is gone, Amelia.  So is Severus.  But before Severus died he got a patronus to me.  Tom’s horcruxes have been destroyed.  He is mortal again.”

“Fat lot of good that will do if we can’t get to him,” Shacklebolt said.

Even Harry, as incorporeal as any ghost, ducked when the wall above them exploded.  A massive piece of masonry fell on Shacklebolt, crushing the senior auror to the floor in a spraying mist of blood.  All of them turned and looked as Fleur screamed in agony before her own fire wrapped around her like a rope and began squeezing.  When at last it passed, a statute of charcoal fell to the floor next to the broken body she tried so hard to defend.

“I’m so sorry, Fleur,” Harry whispered.

That is when they saw him, the Dark Lord himself. Voldemort did not look happy.  “So Snape lied even about you, Dumbledore,” he snarled. 

Dumbledore turned to Robards, Amelia and Scrimgeour, who were trying to save Shacklebolt.  “Amelia, run, now!” Dumbledore ordered.

“Yes, dear Amelia,” Voldemort said.  “Please do run away.  It will make the chase that much more exciting.  Have you seen your niece lately?  I’m sad to say I have terrible news regarding her beloved husband.”

Amelia bit her lip in rage and anguish, and with a nod at Robards and Scrimgeour, they jumped to their feet and ran for all they were worth to any part of the battle that did not have Voldemort.

“So good to see you again, Tom,” Dumbledore said.   “How are you feeling?  A little fragile, perhaps?”

“You obviously are feeling much better,” Voldemort hissed.  “Too bad about your little golden boy.  Fenrir assured me his flesh tasted most delicious.  He did not even have the breath to scream at the end, but he did beg for death.  And so will you.”

Power unbridled flashed between them as the two arch mages struck. 

“It’s almost time,” Sirius said.  “Let’s go.”

“Time for what?” Harry asked.

“For you to understand the power Voldemort knows not.  Come, Harry.  Your wives need you.”

\--

\--

Draco followed the strange woman into the Room of Requirement.  Hermione, Luna, Susan, Daphne and Ginny followed behind him, until they reached the exact center of the room.

There was a pool waiting for them, but it was not a pool of water.  The opening was perfectly circular, about five feet in diameter.  Within it rested a pink, gelatinous ooze.  The other girls walked around, forming a circle around the pool.

“I don’t understand,” Draco admitted.  “What’s happening?  What is that?”

“That is my heart,” the woman said.  “The heart of Hogwarts.  The four founders each gave of their blood, magic and souls when I was completed.  It was always their intent for me to provide a safe haven for their heirs.  The magic I have gathered over the centuries resides here, in this place.”

Draco tried to absorb all this as the woman guided him to a position between Daphne and Luna and pushed him gently until he was on his knees, with the girls.  “But…what does this have to do with Harry?”

“Everything that can be done through evil can be done through love,” Hogwarts said.  “What Tom Riddle attempted to accomplish by murder and black magic, Harry and his wives accomplished with me through our love for him.  I am his anchor, Draco.  Hogwarts herself has become a light horcrux for Harry’s soul.  And if you truly would sacrifice for him, as he sacrificed for you, then all is not lost.”

\--

\--

Robards looked up and shook his head while he let his fingers fall from Scrimgeour’s neck.  Amelia Bones grimaced.  They had found a brief respite near the Gryffindor tower. Around them, exhausted aurors and civilians sank to the floor.  “Things aren’t looking good,” the head auror said.

Amelia nodded.  “I know.  But then again, we don’t know how many people Voldemort has left either.”

“But what about the prophecy?” Robards asked.

“We’ll just have to hope that there was good reason for Voldemort to fear Dumbledore.”

\--

\--

Rookwood spun away, his face caught in an expression of surprised agony.  Or at least part of him spun away.  The other part of him, consisting of his right arm and a sizable portion of his chest, went flying off in the opposite direction.

Dumbledore brought his firewhip back around and dodged another killing curse from Voldemort.  The Dark Lord was no longer trying fancy spell work.  He was shooting pure death with every spell, cursing as he did so. 

The ancient headmaster was slowing down, having to use more and more transfiguration to block the attacks.  His own attacks had stalled as he was forced more and more to be defensive.  The only ones he could kill were those foolish Death Eaters who sought to help their master.

Still, Dumbledore knew that he could not keep the fight up forever.  More to the point, Voldemort knew as well. 

\--

\--

The sword of Gryffindor rose from the heart of the pool until if floated, clean and glistening, just over the surface of the fluid. 

It floated over to Hermione and stopped, floating an inch in front of her.  Hogwarts stood over them all.  “From your heart and soul, from your body to your magic, would you, Hermione Jane, Lady Gryffindor, give your life for your husband?”

Though she could not say how, Hermione knew what to do.  She reached up with both hands and gripped the duel edges of the sword until she felt the steel bite her flesh.  She watched as her blood rolled down the blade until, from its tip, it began dripping into the fluid.  “I would die for him,” she said with clear, final certainty.

The sword drifted to Susan next.   “From your heart and soul, from your body to your magic, would you, Susan Amelia, Lady Hufflepuff, give your life for your husband?”

Susan was smiling as she reached up and gripped the sword.  Her blood joined Hermione’s as it rolled down until it dripped into the heart of Hogwarts.  “I would die for him,” she said.

It went next to Luna, who repeated the rite, then past Draco to Daphne, and finally to Ginny. Only after all five women had bled into the pool did the sword drift to Malfoy. “From the hands of an enemy, let the body come.”

Draco looked up at Hogwarts in confusion, but a moment later the light of understanding shone in his eyes.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out the severed finger.  He lifted it over the pool.  At Hogwart’s nod, he dropped the finger into the fluid.

“And finally, Draco Malfoy, once an enemy of the Heir, do you regret your actions against Harry?  Do you honestly repent of any harm you have done, and will you show your penance?”

“What do I have to do?” Draco asked.

“Would you die for him, Draco?” she asked.

The floating sword flattened until its blade pointed directly at his heart.  Five women looked at him, some wearing expressions of shock, others of sadness.  He looked down at his own hands.  There was still blood on his fingers from where he picked up Harry’s wand and finger.

What had he ever done in the whole of his life, other than abuse others?  What had he done that really mattered?

This mattered.  Looking at these women, who loved Harry with everything they possessed, he suddenly wished he could have someone love him even half as much.  He realized that the life he had led would never bring him that love.

He took a deep breath. “I would,” he finally said.

The sword flashed toward him and he closed his eyes.  However, rather than biting into his chest, he felt a sharp sting on his cheek. 

He opened his eyes and saw the sword floating back over the pool, with blood from his cut cheek dripping into the fluid.  “Blood of those bound in love, you shall restore their beloved.  Blood of an enemy turned friend, freely given of love and penance, you shall restore his friend.  Magic of a thousand years, give with honor and devotion, you shall restore my heir.”

Draco’s breath caught as the fluid began to boil.  He saw a shadow within it, curled into a fetal position.  It grew darker and solid, as if it were rising from a great depth. Hogwarts stepped into the fluid and sank to her waist as she reached both arms in and guided the shadow, as a healer would guide a newborn into the world.

She lifted the body free, dripping pink slime, and carried it to the edge of the pool where it rested between Susan and Hermione.  She wove her hand before his face, and where her fingers passed, the slime disappeared to reveal perfect, unblemished skin.  There was no sign of the scars gained from a lifetime of abuse and hardship.

She continued running her hand over his curled up body, until he lay naked and clean.  Draco’s breath caught in his throat.  It was Harry. 

Hermione placed a hand on his back.  The other girls rose from their positions around the pool and rushed to his side to do the same.  As they did so, Harry started to shake and convulse.  “What’s wrong?” Ginny asked.

“The soul before you has suffered a death beyond imaging,” Hogwarts said sadly.  “Though his body is whole, his soul has been deeply wounded.  Only through your love can he ever truly heal.”

All five girls were crying openly, as was Draco himself.  They draped themselves over his nude form, holding him as tightly as five girls could hold anyone.  They pulled him flat, Hermione and Susan both serving as cushions as they brought his lolling head between their shoulders.  His nude body was pale, but strong and healthy.  In fact, he seemed taller than Draco remembered.

Draco became aware of the magic in the air, so thick it was cloying.  It was not like the Dark Lord’s magic, which brought terror without effort.  This magic made his eyes water and his heart thud in his chest.  It made his breath catch as his few fleeting memories of happiness flitted through his mind—of his mother singing to him at night when he was a child.  Of his first flight on a broom. 

The first time Astoria Greengrass smiled at him without fear or expectation.

They watched as Harry convulsed again and began to groan in a low, terrible voice.  The groan gained in strength and volume, until it was a numbing cry of agony.  Finally, though, the wail gave way to sobs as Harry reached up and desperately grabbed the nearest body to him and hugged Hermione for all he was worth.

After a moment, Ginny leaned over him and gently asked, “Harry, can you hear us?”

They all saw him nod.   Gradually, he eased his grip around Hermione’s waist and sat up.  He opened his eyes and all of them gasped.  He always had brilliant eyes, but now they shown like emeralds lit by the sun.  They had almost their own glow.  But the brows around them were furrowed with unspeakable pain.

He opened his mouth to speak, but quickly leaned forward, away from them, and vomited pink goo directly into the pool.  He sat back and looked up at Hogwarts.  “Sorry,” he croaked.

She laughed.  “Oh my beloved, you merely returned a little of what I have given.”

He looked down.  “I saw Sirius.  You were right, Luna, about what you said last year.  He was here with me.”  He looked at Ginny.  “Bill and Fleur are dead.  I’m so sorry.”

Ginny paled and her eyes teared up.  “You saw them?”

“I saw everyone.”  Harry stood up, only to start falling again.  His wives quickly caught him and straightened him again.  “The battle is going badly.  Dumbledore won’t be able to hold out much longer against Riddle.”  He finally noticed Draco.  “My wand?”

Draco pushed himself to his feet and without hesitation handed it over.

“I saw what you did,” Harry said.

Draco shuddered.  “I’m sorry I couldn’t help Hermione more…”

“You helped save her life, and through your willingness gave me back mine.”  Harry held out his hand, and Draco took it.

Harry did not let go, though.  Instead, with his other hand, he pulled the sleeve back to expose the restored Dark Mark and the scar tissue under it.  “I understand so much more now,” Harry whispered.  He placed his left hand over the mark.  A golden glow formed a nimbus around his fingers.

Draco sucked in his breath, expecting the same agony as last time, but it never came.  Instead, he felt delicious, absolute warmth.  When Harry lifted his hand, the mark was gone, as was the scar tissue.  All that remained was unblemished skin.

Draco looked up, and found himself lost in a pair of brilliant emerald eyes.  “For everything you have done for me, Draco, you are my brother.  My friend.  I love you, and I will protect you.”

Draco stuttered, overcome with an emotion he simply did not know how to handle.

Harry let go and lifted his wand.  Cloth formed from the air around him. White robes draped themselves from his shoulders until he was fully covered. He turned to Hogwarts.  “I am your son.”

She nodded.  “And we are your mother.  This is your home for now and evermore, my lord.  And she calls on you now for her protection.”

“And she shall have it,” Harry said.  He looked at his wives, and his friend, and nodded.  “It’s time to go.”

\--

\--

Dumbledore stumbled into the Great Hall with the last of his energy.  It a desperate move, he collapsed a portion of the ceiling to give himself and the small band of aurors and Order members a chance to regroup. 

He saw Molly Weasley first. She was leaning into Arthur sobbing so hard her shoulders shook.  Dumbledore wondered sadly if she had lost yet another child in the fighting. 

Minerva lay passed out against a wall.  He could see a spell burn on her shoulder, but her breathing appeared regular. Perhaps it was exhaustion. Finally, his eyes locked onto Amelia Bones.  The minister was deep in discussions with Robards and several other aurors as Dumbledore made his way to them.

“Voldemort?” the minister asked brusquely.

“I bought us a few minutes at best,” the old headmaster said.  “I truly wish I could do more.  Even twenty years ago, I would have been able to.  Who have we lost, Amelia?”

“Too many,” the minister said darkly.  “We’ve hurt the bastard, but we’re hurting badly ourselves.”

The doors to the hall, now closed and charmed against intrusion, blew inward in a shower of shrapnel.  Witches and wizards dove for cover or shielded themselves as best they could.  “So it comes at last,” Dumbledore sighed tiredly.  He pushed himself back to his feet and turned to see Voldemort stride in at the head of his army, such as it was.

The Dark Lord attacked with almost a thousand individuals, between his dark creatures and the witches and wizards who followed him. Now he had but forty or so.

Though the great hall held nearly a hundred people, most were either too injured or exhausted to fight further.  It was Dumbledore alone who moved to the center of the hall. “Are you ready to die, Albus?” Voldemort called.  His own robes were charred in places, and he had a few burns on his hands and serpentine face, but he moved with vigor and energy, compared to Dumbledore’s old creaking joints.

“Death is but another journey, Tom.  One you should have taken fifteen years ago.”

“Not today, however!   _Avada Kedavra_!”

The green spell flew straight and true, and Dumbledore’s exhausted body could not dodge, nor could his depleted magical core summon a barrier to block it in time. 

So when the floor rose up between them an absorbed the spell, both arch mages were surprised. The flagstones sank back down.  As they did so, Voldemort saw the impossible.

“No!” he snarled.  “It was a trick!  I killed you!  I watched your skin flayed from your body!”

“And it hurt,” Harry Potter said.  Around him, stunned witches and wizards roused themselves from their defeated stupor.  “It hurt a lot.”

“How can you be alive?”

“How can you?”

Harry’s five wives appeared before him.  Five beautiful women with their wands out and pointed at the Dark Lord’s servants.  A moment later Draco appeared near the headmaster.  Voldemort stared incredulously at the boy.  “Another traitor!”

“That’s all that hatred engenders, Tom,” Harry said.  “Betrayal.”  He snapped out his right hand, and a glittering sword flew up from below the floor to fit snugly in his fingers. In his other hand he brandished his wand. 

Around them, the castle wards suddenly sprung back into place.  The first Death Eater to die was Avery, who with a startled yelp was launched into the wall farthest from him at nearly three hundred kilometers an hour.  He hit with a wet  _thunk_  and fell boneless to the floor.

The other Death Eaters followed within mere seconds, tossed against the walls of the Great Hall with lethal speed, until in the end only Voldemort remained, wreathed in his hatred and his magic.

Harry knew that even if he tried to kill Voldemort in a similar fashion, the Dark Lord’s own magic would prevent it. For he truly was the most powerful dark wizard to ever live.

But Harry was the Heir of the Four Founders.

“You were right, Tom.  It ends today.  Are you ready to die?”

Voldemort lashed out with his wand.  The Elder Wand.

Harry lifted the sword and it easily absorbed the dark magic.  Voldemort blinked in shock.  “What is this?  What trickery is this?”

“The Elder Wand can never be used against its master,” Harry explained.  “I am the master of Death, Tom.  I have the Invisibility Cloak and the Resurrection Stone, and this last summer, I bested Professor Dumbledore in a wizard’s duel.  I am the master.”

“No matter!” Voldemort snarled.  He threw the Elder Wand down and removed his old phoenix feather wand.  “Die!”

Harry did not even articulate a spell.  He lashed out with golden magic against the green of Voldemort’s, and once more the two spells collided.  Voldemort poured all of his magic into the connection, hoping to overwhelm his young opponent.  Harry simply pointed his sword with his other hand.

“Goodbye, Tom Riddle.  The world will not miss you.”

“No!”

Still caught in the  _priori incatatum_ , Voldemort could neither move nor spell away the sword that flew like a bullet toward him.  It caught him in the center of his chest and continued flying with his breastbone caught by its pommel until the sword sunk four inches into the stone near the shattered doors of the entrance.

Harry lowered his wand.  The hall was absolutely silent as he walked toward where Riddle was gasping and clawing weakly at the sword.  He bent down and retrieved both the Elder Wand and Riddle’s wand, but swayed a moment when he straightened.  After taking a deep breath, he continued walking until he stood before the dying Dark Lord.

“You’ve lived a life of hatred, Tom,” Harry said softly, staring into the red eyes of his enemy.  “I wonder how things would have been had you known a day’s love in your life. You never understood what it was you’ve missed, but I’m going to show you, Tom.  I’m going to show you what love is.”

“Go to Hell,” Voldemort whispered.

“Probably not,” Harry said.  He placed his palm against the Dark Lord’s head, and easily broke through the dying man’s weakened mental shields.

He sent images and sensations, memories and thoughts.  The intense bliss of climax with a woman he loved.  The sight of five nubile bodies all giving themselves to him.  The little things they would do, like the way Susan would sometimes rub his shoulders for no other reason than because he looked tense, or how Ginny would absently put a butterbeer in his hands.  The way they looked at him, as if he were the only thing that mattered to them.  And the way he thought of them, because they were the only things that mattered.

Riddle writhed under the onslaught.  Finally, Harry let go.  “And now you know,” he said.  He lifted the Elder Wand and placed it to Riddle’s forehead.

“Good bye.   _Avada Kedavra._ ”  The spell was not spoken in rage or anguish.  It was spoken with mercy.  The power was more subtle, but no less deniable.  A gentle green light covered Riddle’s head in a nimbus-like cloud.  Gently, the red eyes closed, and Tom Marvolo Riddle, known as Voldemort, finally and truly died.

The Battle of Hogwarts was over.

 


	30. In Which The Nightmares Finally End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Until the inevitable sequels.

On the morning of the memorial service for the fallen, which was to be held the day before the delayed start of the second term, a statue appeared in the courtyard of the castle.

Harry made no effort to deny his part in it, but he also made no effort to advertise his role.

It was a statue of stone.  It showed a figure lying prone on the ground, beautiful in death.  With the dragon-tooth earring and long hair, and the scarred face, it was obviously an effigy of Bill Weasley.  Over him, her feet straddling his body, was the figure of Fleur Delacour, beautiful in her determination and wrath.  One hand held her wand, the left was palm up.  From the center of her palm flickered an everlasting flame.

Around the large base of the statue were carved the names of all those who had fallen.  Nor were the names limited to just fallen wizards.  Every fallen muggle involved in the operation against the Death Eaters was listed as well.

The Prime Minister of England, with his security contingent, recovered from his shock at seeing Hogwarts long enough to peer long and hard at the statue.  “You’re doing?” he asked his host.

The Minister of Magic shook her head.  “No.  But I would have, had I thought of it.”

“Who were they?”

“Heroes who died fighting, just like all of your people.”  She held out an arm, and Minister Bryant nodded as he hooked his own through it.  

“Indeed.” The two leaders stepped into the castle. 

The walls of the recently repaired Great Hall were draped in wizarding pictures of all those lost.  Harry was already there with his wives, sitting in a middle pew surrounded by classmates.  Most had avoided the fighting, though a few sixth and seventh years and DA members had fought as well.

And some of them died.

Harry found himself looking at the pictures.  He didn’t know them all, but he knew enough.  Tonks and Lupin’s pictures hung side by side, and seemed to be playing tag with each other between their frames.  Mad-Eye Moody glowered at everyone with his magic eye.  Severus looked on with a blank expression, which for the potions master was tantamount to a grin of sheer joy.

There was Bill and Fleur in their engagement photo, together as they belonged. And next to them was Percy Weasley, who fought with his life to protect the minister.  A true Gryffindor in the end. 

Ernie McMillan had fought and died.  Neville came through with several curse scars, but otherwise was unharmed.  But Filius Flitwick did not fare as well.  The venerable charms professor died moments before Voldemort entered the room, with a heart-broken Madam Pomphrey and Minerva McGonagall kneeling by his side.

There were more, so many more.  Aurors and civilians, ordinary people who at the end decided to stand and fight for what was right.  All of them were heroes.

There were also to be honors, of course.  At first Harry resisted the idea, but his wives quickly put such nonsense to bed.  He had an appointment the following week to receive his Order of Merlin, while the week after that he was going to be presented to the Queen. 

But for now, his eyes kept running past the moving images of those who fought and died.  He wished for a moment that his parents’ images were there, and almost as soon as the thought formed in his head, he felt a tickle in his mind, and a whisper. “ _As you wish, beloved._ ”

Those gathered to pay their respects stopped in alarm as the wall at the front of the hall began grinding apart, until three wizarding photos appeared.  The younger attendees had no idea who they were, but the older ones immediately recognized Sirius Black and James and Lily Potter.  Many eyes turned to stare at Harry, but he did not return the looks. Instead, he smiled up at the happy images of his parents. 

\--

\--

Draco Malfoy stepped into a quiet common room on the evening of the first day of class.  Half of the people there had lost parents in the final battle. 

He stopped before their gazes and simply waited.

“Where’s Zabini?” Bullstrode asked.

“Dead,” Draco said.  “He joined the Dark Lord before the final battle.”

“You were there?” a fourth year asked.

Draco nodded.

“They said Harry died.”

“He did.”

“How could he?”

“He came back.  I’m not sure he can ever die permanently.”

One of the few surviving seventh years stood up.  “You betrayed the Dark Lord.”

Draco lifted his chin.  “I honored the Light Lord.  I’ve declared for the Light.”  He pulled up his sleeve.  “Harry removed my mark.  Not even Dumbledore could do that.”

That made a few of the other students whisper.

“Harry is Hogwarts,” Draco said then.  “He is the anchor for all the wards.  He can hear everything you say and do if he needs to.  If you plot to hurt him or any other student, you won’t survive the year.  You don’t have to like him or approve of him, but even the Dark Lord learned to respect him in the end.  Now, it’s getting late.  Go to your rooms.  I’m declaring an early curfew as prefect until a new Head of House is appointed.”

With grumbles but no outright rebellion, the surviving Slytherins got up from their seats and started toward their rooms.  When they were gone, Draco collapsed into a nearby couch and stared into the fireplace.

He wasn’t even aware of the presence next to him until she spoke.  “Draco?”

He turned, surprised to find Astoria Greengrass next to him.  Like her sister, she was beautiful enough to steal a man’s breath.  She was going to turn fifteen next summer, if he remembered.  She sat looking at him with concern in her eyes, and her delicate, perfectly formed fingers on his shoulder.

“Daphne told me a little about what you did,” she said softly.

Draco shrugged and looked back into the fire.  “I didn’t do anything except get Hermione hurt.  I cost Harry his firstborn.”

“You saved her life. And you helped bring Harry back.”

“It was not enough.”

Those pale fingers reached around his chin and turned his face back.  Delicate, strawberry-flavored lips latched onto his.  He had kissed before—more, even.  Pansy Parkinson’s father had firmly believed he could find favor with the wealthy Malfoys through his daughter’s sex, and she gave it freely.

But this was not a wanton kiss.  It was gentle and giving and nothing like Malfoy had ever experienced.  He began to wonder if, as their lips parted, this is what Harry meant by power.

Astoria Greengrass had power over him.

“You’re the bravest boy in this house,” Astoria said, still boring into his eyes with her gaze.  “You were willing to die to help somebody.  Daphne and the others will never forget that.  And neither will I.”  She kissed him again, this time with greater fervor.

Draco had no choice but to put an arm around her, lest he fall over.  “Astoria,” he finally began, “you’re so…”

She smiled sadly.  “I know, young.  Too young for you.  But I just wanted you to…”

“I was going to say beautiful,” Draco whispered.  “And yes, you’re young, but if there is even a chance that you might want me, I would wait until you’re not too young. I’d wait forever, if you needed me to.”

They sat, staring deeply into each other’s eyes for the longest time, before Astoria grinned.  “I reach the age of consent in June,” she breathed.  “On the Solstice.  We always celebrate the old rites.”

Draco knew them—he had celebrated with Pansy the previous summer.  The ancient fertility rites were most enjoyable, and the magic produced, while classified as dark, usually resulted in a bountiful crop. 

“Do you think you father…”

“He would be honored to have a wizard versed in the old ways join our family,” Astoria assured him.  “It’s not like Harry’s going to go rutting with Daphne in the middle of a wheat field any time soon.”

“I don’t know, I’ve heard stories.”

Astoria’s laugh was like a bell ringing clearly through the room.  She climbed onto top of Draco until she straddled his lap and stared down at him.  “You’ve been my protector this year,” she said.  “And maybe, just maybe, I could fall in love with you if you tried hard enough.”

“Tell me what to do,” Draco said.  “And I’ll do it.  For you.”

“And that’s exactly what I mean,” she said.

\--

\--

“How’s he doing?” Daphne asked as she sank into their couch.

Hermione sipped a shot of firewhiskey in the hopes the alcohol would help her sleep.  “Ginny, Sue and Luna are with him now,” she said.  “He’ll fall asleep long enough for the nightmares to start, then he’ll wake up trembling and crying again.  As long as at least one of us is there for him to hold, he’s okay.”

“Has he, well, shagged anyone yet?”

“I don’t think he’s even been erect since he died.”  Hermione knew how strange that sounded.  She downed the rest of the shot in a single gulp.

Daphne scooted over until she sat beside her sister wife and placed a hand on her stomach.  “And how are you doing, Hermione?”

Hermione didn’t know if what came out was a sob or a hiccup.  “Okay, I guess,” she said.  “Guess Hufflepuff will end up being the first born.”  She reached up and rubbed tiredly at her eyes, and was surprised to find her hand wet.

She looked at Daphne, and she could see her own grief reflected in the Slytherin beauty.  “I…” she started to say.

Without a word, Daphne took Hermione’s shoulders, and pulled the older girl into a hug.  Whatever barriers Hermione thought she had crumbled before this singular act of kindness, and she cried into her sister wife’s shoulder.

Later that night, after they finally went to bed, Hermione dreamed of golden light and beautiful warmth.  Of gentle fingers caressing her face and her body. 

Realization came slowly that it wasn’t a dream, and she opened her eyes to see Susan and Ginny gently removing her knickers, while Daphne and Luna were propping her up to remove her nightgown. 

Harry stood at the foot of her bed, swaying in obvious exhaustion.  Yet his eyes held that same gleam they saw when he was reborn as he stared down at her.

“What are you doing?” Hermione asked.  There was no panic in her voice, just curiosity laced with acceptance.  This was her family.  She loved them as much as they loved her.

Harry’s voice was hoarse from screaming during his nightmares for the past few days.  Nightmares that kept them all up.  But his words were gentle.  “You’re not whole,” he whispered.  “Your soul was hurt.”

She sat up, intimately aware of the four separate hands gently caressing her back.  “You’re hurt as well.”

He climbed onto the bed and sat cross-legged from her.  “As I was walking out to get you,” he spoke softly, “I had a vision.  It was a vision of Salazar Slytherin, before Godric rescued him from the Moors at Cardoba.  He was a good man once.  He married a half-Moor, the illegitimate daughter of a Berber lord.  They ran away to be together, and they had a son.  A Christian raiding party found her.  She was black, and so they did to her what they always did to the Moors.  They killed Salazar’s wife and son.  And when he found them, his soul broke apart.  And it never came back together.  All the evil he did later in his life was because the goodness in him died that day.”

With strong arms and an undeniable magic, Harry lifted Hermione onto his lap.  She could feel his manhood, half-limp, run against her sex.  “I think he sent me that vision, Hermione, because he knew what I was going to find.”  His voice cracked, and through her own tears she could see moisture running down his cheeks.  “He was trying to warn me about what would happen if I let our loss destroy my soul.”

She felt him swelling against her, and without hesitation, to the approving looks of her sister wives, she reached down and took his penis in her hand, and guided it the lips of her sex. 

Still, Harry’s eyes never left hers.  “But I realized that I had something Salazar lost and could never get back.   I have all of you.  If I were to lose you, I don’t know if I could live, but together, we can overcome anything.   I love you, Hermione.  And I swear on my magic and by my love for you that we will have our child, and he will grow up to be as brilliant and brave as his mother.”  He leaned forward until their tear-lined lips came together.  As he slipped past her sex and slid deep into her body, he whispered into her ear, “Let me make you whole again.”

She rocked as the familiar, loving magic welled around them—the magic that cemented their marriages and bound them to this incredible man.  As his shaft sunk deep within her, it seemed to push away the memory of pain and loss, until the only thing filling her body was him, and the only thing filling her soul was the magic he gave her.

“I love you, Hermione,” Harry said.

“I love you, Harry,” she said back, weeping now with joy as their rocking gained momentum and strength.  She felt other lips and hands on her body, and gave herself to the sensation just as surely as she did during the Light Horcrux ceremony.

In time she felt him thrust hard and deep within her as his breath caught, and she felt the waves of pleasure roll through her.  And with just a tingle in the back of her head, she felt a familiar voice whisper,  _“And so it begins again.  Congratulations on your son, Lady Gryffindor.”_

She knew for a certainty that Hogwarts was right.  She clasped Harry tightly, weeping still with joy and life.   Then Ginny was there, looking at the couple with longing eyes.

“Yes,” Hermione said at the unasked question.  She turned to Harry.  “We’ve all been hurt.  It’s time for all of us to be whole again.”

“Yes,” he agreed.  As Hermione slid off, Ginny took her place, and one by one, sometimes by two, Harry and his wives made passionate love through the rest of the night.  And when he finally fell asleep, surrounded by the women he loved, Harry slept deeply with no more nightmares and no more tears.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As stated at the beginning, this was a repost of a story that was originally written in 2008. Four Founders was the first in a trilogy of stories which you can find on fanfiction dot net. The sequels are The Forever Mage and The Lord of Light. As the two follow-up stories did not exceed the ratings, I probably will not post them here. Thank you for reading.


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